


War of Attrition

by Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction



Series: Winter's War [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-05-01 00:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 112,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14508501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction/pseuds/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction
Summary: Sixty-eight years. That’s how long you and Bucky Barnes spent as brainwashed assassins. Used and abused by both the KGB and Hydra, it isn’t a surprise that you both forgot your past lives as Captain America’s best friends. Of that you were married. Or that you trained Natasha Romanoff. And killed President Kennedy. Though your true consciousness may have surfaced over the years, neither organization was willing to let their most effective weapons run free. It’s even less surprising that your whole being breaks when these truths come to light and you’re forced to face the last seventy years of carnage.Who can you trust when you can’t trust your own mind?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), talk of death  
> A/N: English is back to normal quotes. Russian and other languages (when they eventually show up again) will be in quotes and italics.

[Originally posted by marveladdicts](https://tmblr.co/ZUFEPk2XFbT5r)

**Steve’s POV  
**

**2012 - New York, New York. United States of America**

Steve supposed he should be happy. He was alive, after all. He’d survived an alien invasion… and seventy years on ice. 

By all accounts, he was lucky. 

Fortunate, even.

But the more he walked around New York, the less he recognized it. The neighborhood he’d grown up in was almost unrecognizable. The building he technically owned thanks to (Y/N) and Bucky’s gift all those years ago- the building he’d lived in for years- had been torn down and replaced decades ago in an attempt to fix the structural unsoundness of the growing cityscape. It was a hideous design Steve had learned to recognize as being from the 70′s. 

As a show of good will, Tony (he couldn’t call him “Stark,” not in his head. Howard would always be “Stark.”) had hired some lawyers and gotten the current owners of the building to settle and give Steve a check that had his eyes widening so much Tony actually seemed concerned they’d pop out of his head. Steve had wordlessly handed the check back to him and told him to donate it to charity or something. 

Tony had deposited half into Steve’s bank account and given the other half to various charities, all approved of by Steve first. 

Steve didn’t check his bank account. Between that disgustingly huge check and the back pay from technically never leaving the army, Steve had enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life. Considering he grew up the poor son of a single mother (and an immigrant, at that), Steve had no idea what to do with all of the money he suddenly found in his possession. He probably couldn’t spend it all if he tried. Inflation still messed with his head, though. He still picked pennies up out of habit, constantly forgetting they were essentially worthless now. 

The technology was the worst, though. They’d tried to give him a “cell phone” but he’d given up on trying to use it beyond pressing the green button when someone called him and plugging it into the outlet on the wall to charge at night. He hadn’t had a telephone back in the 40′s. His building didn’t even have one, old as it was. He’d had to go to the lobby of the building next to his to make a call, not that he usually needed to. The only people he really talked to back then were his ma and Bucky and he was inside so often due to his health that his mother was never far and Bucky had no trouble finding him. 

Computers were a different beast altogether but he’d grudgingly forced himself to learn how to use one. This, at least, had a keyboard that reminded him of a typewriter. With a little help from Natasha (he refused to ask Tony for help. The man’s techno-babble just confused Steve more) he learned how to “surf the internet”. He spent more time on Wikipedia than any other sight, but found himself on Youtube fairly often, too. The internet, at least, was helpful in learning just about anything Steve had questions about. 

A video played on the screen; old propaganda videos of Steve running around the battlefield, searching bombed-out towns, and talking to important people that he remembered really disliking. It was stupid. All of it was stupid. 

It was _war_. It wasn’t anything like this narrator made it sound. He was scared a lot. Sometimes for other people, sometimes for himself. He saw an innumerable measure of people get hurt.

Hurt his fair share himself. 

He clicked the laptop off and stared at his own reflection off the screen in the dim morning light. The sudden silence did little to calm his thoughts, though the sounds of the city waking up outside was familiar, at least.

He finally looked at the file on the table, trepidation gathering low in his gut. He hadn’t looked at it yet, too afraid of what he might find. He flicked it open before he could stop himself again, heart immediately clenching painfully at the first page on the small pile. 

_James Morita. Deceased._

It only got worse. 

_James Montgomery Falsworth. Deceased._

_Gabriel Jones. Deceased._

_Jacques Dernier. Deceased.  
_

_Timothy Aloysius Cadwallader Dugan. Deceased._

Steve swallowed past the lump in his throat. He’d expected as much. He’d gotten a few letters from Dum Dum and Gabe’s family, but none from the people themselves. He was sure they’d have contacted him by now if they knew he was alive.

And _everyone_ knew he was alive. 

He was all over the news with the other “Avengers” (as people had started calling them). Not a single soul around the world didn’t know he was back.

He knew they were dead, but seeing it written plain as day on paper in bright red ink was something else entirely. 

He wanted to stop and shove the papers back into the folder, but the next sheet below Dum Dum’s caught his eye. 

_Margaret Carter._

Steve hardly dared to breathe as he took in the next words.

_Retired._

He scanned the page quickly. 

Alive. Living in the UK. Safe.

A telephone number was listed, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to dial it. He stared at the phone despondently. It blinked back at him mockingly. She had a whole life without him. What right did he have to come bumbling into it now? He never got that dance but he was sure he still had two left feet anyway, new body be damned. 

He wondered if she might have (Y/N) and Bucky’s things. He couldn’t imagine her letting anyone take them. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d kept (Y/N)’s designs hidden from anyone and everyone. 

He set her paper down and picked up the next one on the pile, heart dropping again. 

_Howard Stark. Deceased._

Steve added Stark’s to the pile and was surprised to see another beneath it. It was on glossy new paper, obviously unlike the others even at a glance. 

_Anthony Stark. Alive. Active- Adviser._

Steve set the page back down away from the rest and stared at it, his recent adventure flashing through his mind. 

The world may not see the man underneath the stars and stripes anymore (if they ever did to begin with), but it seemed like they still needed the hero. He bickered with Tony and the others, but they also fought tooth and nail and put their lives on the line to save the world. They were odd enough in their own ways that Steve didn’t feel completely out of place. 

Peggy was still here, too. He’d talk to her soon, just… not today. 

He had to find a way to live in this new world.

The crush of people on the busy streets was familiar, even if all the technology and lack of politeness wasn’t. 

Then again, maybe that wasn’t so different, either.

But the stalls sold things Steve couldn’t recognize. There were lots of wires and stacks of phones that Steve was fairly sure were at least partially illegal in some way. People had their noses buried in phones instead of newspapers and magazines. Cars inside buildings looked even more futuristic than the flying car Howard had shown off at the Stark Expo back in ‘41. He’d been inside a few by now and had to admit they were nice, but he’d still stick to his old motorcycle, thank you very much. Apparently a museum had Patriot on display, so he settled for a nice “old” Harley. 

Still didn’t ride as nice as Patriot did, though.

Eventually he found his way to a coffee shop. This had been a cafe, too, back in the day, but it had obviously changed hands a few times over since he saw it last. He pulled his notebook and pen out of his pocket and began sketching, trying to capture the new, unfamiliar skyline of the city he grew up in. 

“Waiting on the big guy?” 

Steve glanced up from his sketch at the waitress, squinting a little bit against the sun. “Ma’am?” he asked, confused. Did she mean the president? Was she an agent? Was he supposed to meet someone here?

“Iron Man. Lotta people eat here just to see ‘im fly by,” she said, gesturing to the skyline behind her. 

Steve stared at the building behind her, his gaze turning flat. “Right.” It took him a second to realize she was smiling at him and he leaned forward and grabbed his wallet out of his pocket. “Maybe another time.” He hadn’t realized how late it had gotten and he didn’t know if he could handle talking to someone right now, especially a pretty da- lovely woman. 

“Table’s yours as long as you like. Nobody’s waiting on it,” she said with a conspiratory wink as she refilled his coffee. “Plus we’ve got free wireless,” she said as she walked away.

Steve frowned. “Radio?” 

She smiled at him over her shoulder as though he’d told a funny joke and returned to tending the other customers. 

“Ask for her number, you moron,” said one of the older men sitting at the table next to his. It was startling to think Steve was probably older than him. 

_Oh. Wireless. The internet. Right._

Steve got up a few minutes later. He didn’t ask for her number. 

The train ride back to his place was quiet. The more he looked at people the more he realized he still didn’t dress quite right for the time. He looked out the window, but that didn’t help much, either. All he saw was the strange skyline and cars and signs that he didn’t recognize. 

Loki may have been a calculating, evil megalomaniac, but he had one thing right: Steve was a man out of time. 

* * *

[Originally posted by friendzoned-by-avengers](https://tmblr.co/ZsVwQj21Toz4q)

**2014 - Washington DC, United States of America**

Steve walked slowly through the Smithsonian exhibit. It was weird seeing his face stretched ten feet high on the wall. Hell, it was weird that there was an exhibit for him at all. The bonds tour back in ‘41-’43 had been one thing, but this was something else entirely. His entire life as Captain America was on display for the world to see. 

Steve Rogers wasn’t who all these people came to see. Not really. For the last seventy years he was a character on the screen or in a comic book, not a flesh and blood person. Steve didn’t regret joining the army or participating in Erskine’s experiment, but ever since he got his new body, all people saw was the hero Captain America, not the man Steve Rogers.

Although Steve thought he was pretty dang heroic before the serum, even if Bucky did have to fish him out of fights on occasion.

_Bucky._

Steve bit back a sigh and focused back on the present, though that was difficult when memorabilia of the past surrounded him almost to the point of being suffocating.

“A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honor, bravery, and sacrifice.”

The voice came out of speakers in the ceiling, dramatic and inspiring, even as Steve rolled his eyes at the words. 

He could imagine (Y/N) teasing him. _“Brave? As if. You’re just too dumb not to run away from a fight, huh, Buck?”_

Their faces were plastered on the wall next to his and the other Howling Commandos. _“You got that right, Doll. Did I tell you about the one time he picked a fight with the Ghulie brothers two doors down? He was eight and they were eleven! Got the snot kicked out of him. Had to patch him up before his ma came home and chewed us both out.”_

He frowned and pulled the baseball cap lower over his eyes. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea.

“Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare. One that would transform him into the world’s first super soldier.”

There were long display screens showing the physical difference between him before and after the serum, including some pretty embarrassing photos of him at camp Lehigh. Just next to those were pictures of the science team that worked on project Rebirth, Howard, Abraham, and (Y/N) beaming proudly in the front row. It was taken the morning of the experiment. It only felt like a few years ago, but nearly everyone in that photo was dead now. 

He’d watched Abraham and (Y/N) die himself.

No, he’d _let_ them die. 

The crowd pushed him along. Mothers with yelling children didn’t have time for his brooding. Life marched on.

He walked past Patriot, Moxie, and Valor all side by side in glass cases. Apparently Moxie’s engine had been removed and replaced with a lookalike; it was years ahead of other electric engines so Stark and Peggy had removed it and kept it hidden away for safekeeping. Patriot was as large and imposing as ever, dwarfing Moxie by comparison. Valor looked as graceful and dangerous as he remembered, all classic curves and streamlined upgrades. 

The huge mural with him and the Commandos drew his attention, though, and he found himself walking towards it even though he hadn’t told his feet to move. 

Their gear was placed carefully on manikins and Steve wondered briefly if they shouldn’t be behind glass or something. His eyes drifted to (Y/N) and Bucky’s gear of their own accord. It wasn’t her original suit, obviously. Chances were that was Bucky’s spare coat, but the suit on the manikin representing her was guaranteed to be a fake. She trashed all her earlier prototypes and she’d fallen in the real one. Still, it was pretty convincing even to Steve’s trained eye. Howard probably helped make it before he died; he knew the design the best out of everyone besides (Y/N).

Dum Dum’s ridiculous bowler hat and Falsworth’s bright red beret nearly made Steve smile, his lips twitching up in a weird aborted motion before falling back down into a grimace. 

He turned away from the haunting faceless manikins and perused the small side room full of (Y/N)’s inventions, smiling when he remembered a specific incident surrounding a gizmo or gadget. 

More than once he thought about the way Coulson would fawn over the gadgets and the stories behind them if he were here. While he’d been mighty proud of his vintage card collection (”I just obtained a mint of Lady Liberty! They only printed a few hundred of her, you know!”), Steve knew the man would do just about anything to get his hands on (Y/N)’s inventions. She’d created nearly all of the Commando’s gear, after all. It was easy to sometimes take her genius for granted back then. Even though it was war, Steve never actually thought she’d die. She always seemed so indomitable, like Peggy. 

Like Bucky. 

Steve was moping again. He knew it. He’d been staring at the same wristwatch walky-talky for at least ten minutes, lost in his own head. 

_“-They earned their stripes, taking down Hydra: The Nazi rogue science division.”_

The narrator’s voice floated through the door as more people came in the smaller room and Steve made a hasty retreat, not wanting to chance being spotted because he was in such tight quarters. 

He felt a little more at ease in the large room…

Until his eyes fell on the memorials. 

He walked towards it with a sense of determination he wasn’t sure he really felt. 

_“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield.  
_

_(Y/N) (Y/L/N) met Steven Rogers when working on the program that would turn Rogers into the super soldier we know him as today and stayed friends with him ever since.  
_

_After being rescued by Steven Rogers, (Y/L/N) and Barnes fell in love and married one another while in Europe fighting Hydra, though their union was short-lived.  
_

_The Barneses were the only Howling Commandos to give their lives in service of their country.”_

It seemed wrong to have their entire lives summarized in two paragraphs on a piece of etched glass. Their faces looked noble and so, so human and familiar that Steve couldn’t do anything but stare for a few long minutes. 

_“The Fallen Comrades_ ” it read in huge script at the top. The left side was (Y/N)’s short biography, the right reserved for Bucky’s. The center was an etched carving of the two of them as they were on their wedding day, dressed as nicely as they could be, considering they were in the middle of war-torn Europe.

> _“James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes and (Y/N) (Y/M/N) “Lady Liberty” Barnes”_
> 
> _“When Bucky Barnes first met Steve Rogers on the playgrounds of Brooklyn, little did he know that he was forging a bond that would take him to the battlefields of Europe and beyond.”_

Steve stared at that little snippet for much too long, mind flashing back to 1920′s Brooklyn, skinned elbows, bullies twice Steve’s size, and a knobby-kneed Bucky that hadn’t yet managed to grow into his big feet.

His gaze flicked to her side of the memorial, flashes of Camp Lehigh dancing behind his eyes. 

> _“(Y/N) (Y/L/N) met Steve Rogers while he was being evaluated for the super soldier program. She supported him from day one, not knowing that he’d one day save her life and lead her to her future husband, one James Buchanan Barnes.”_

His eyes trailed back to Bucky’s side, his heart numb with loss at this point. He couldn’t stop reading if he tried. _  
_

> _“Born in 1917, James Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom, Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front. Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, deprivation, and torture. But his will was strong. It was also during this time that he met his future wife (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and often protected her from the horrors their Hydra captors inflicted upon them._  
>  In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend Steve Rogers, now Captain America. Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, the Howling Commandos. Barne’s marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.  
>  -Bucky Barnes-  
>  1917-1944″  
> 

He turned back to her side, his heart heavy and his mind sluggish. _  
_

> _“Born in 1916, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was orphaned at a young age. What would have broken lesser people, though, only fueled (Y/N)’s determination to succeed. It was through sheer force of will that she became one of the brightest minds of her time. She’s now recognized widely to have been a key factor to the Super Soldier Program and equal to Howard Stark in technological advancement. She worked closely with Doctor Abraham Erskine and Howard Stark to bring Erskine’s work to life in the form of one Steven Rogers, Captain America. The universe has a strange sense of humor, though. She was kidnapped along with the men of the 107th. In nothing short of a miracle, she met her future husband, Bucky Barnes, while imprisoned. With both of his friends in enemy clutches, it was no surprise that Steve Rogers liberated the base, saving them both._  
>  She joined Barnes and Rogers and the other Howling Commandos on the front, often providing technical support, weaponry, and combat advice for the team. She was the only female member of the Howling Commandos and was never officially a member of the American Army, though she received full honors regardless.  
>  -(Y/N) Barnes-  
>  1916-1944“  
> 

It was more than most people got, he supposed. 

You had empty graves, though. Steve wondered if Peggy had (Y/N)’s flag, or if it had gone home to the Barnes household. Steve liked the thought of that. Of (Y/N) having a family that loved her even though they never met her. Knowing Bucky’s Ma Winifred, it wouldn’t surprise him at all if the Barnes Matriarch had demanded her daughter-in-law’s flag and kept it next to her son’s at all times. 

Steve had visited the graves once, and only once. There weren’t bodies there, but the sight of your names engraved on bleak marble had made him sick so he hadn’t gone back again. 

He still visited Dum Dum, Gabe, and Jim though when he got a chance. People still left flowers on their graves though some of the guys had been dead for years now. 

He told himself it was all worth it. Hydra had been stopped. The rest of the Commandos (and the rest of the world, for that matter) got to live their lives without the oppressive tyranny of Hydra and the Nazis.

He tore his gaze from the memorials and walked towards the small theater. He sat in the back, not wanting to give anyone a reason to look at him longer than they should. 

When Peggy showed up on the screen, he had to bite back a small pained noise. She looked so young like this, even though it was almost 10 years after he’d flown the plane into the ice. 

_“That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German lines. Steve- Captain Rogers- he fought his way through a Hydra blockade that had pinned our allies down for months. He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would, uh- who would become my husband, as it turned out. Even after he died he was still changing my life.”_

Steve stared at the screen long after Peggy had stopped talking. He sat through the old propaganda short movies without really seeing them. It was only when he heard (Y/N)’s voice that he refocused on the present, eyes fixated on the shaky, fuzzy video projected in front of him.

“Is it rolling?” she asked, staring at the person behind the camera. 

“I dunno, you built the darn thing,” said a slightly annoyed voice. It wasn’t until he’d heard Bucky speak that he realized he’d almost forgotten what he really sounded like.

(Y/N) smiled cheekily and Steve nearly smiled with her. It was that mischievous smile that meant she was about to crack a joke, often at Bucky’s expense.

Bucky headed that idea off at the pass, though. “Don’t you dare, Doll. You’re on camera and wastin’ time,” said Bucky, still out of frame.

“It’s my machine and my film, I’ll do what I please,” she said somewhat petulantly, holding her hand out to Bucky. There was a small noise that could almost be mistaken for static or wind, but Steve recognized it as a huff of laughter. He came into view a second later and sat down on the couch beside her, grinning broadly despite their almost-bickering. “Say hi,” she ordered good-naturedly. 

“Hi Ma, Pa,” Bucky said, ducking his head a bit. He was such a Mama’s boy. “This is my wife, (Y/N).” There was a pause where Bucky obviously didn’t quite know what to say yet and looked to her for support. 

She smiled and threaded her fingers in his and Steve was reminded how stupidly in-love they were. “I know this isn’t exactly a normal way of sayin’ hello, but I know you only have pictures of me and I don’t know how long it’ll be ‘til we get back. I wanted to give you something you could watch. I also thought you might like seein’ your son alive and kickin’,” she said, nudging Bucky’s shoulder playfully with hers. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but the effect was slightly ruined by the puppy-love look in his gaze. “And I keep tellin’ her she’s a worrywart. Things are goin’ great out here, promise. Between my girl and Steve, we’ll be home before next Christmas.”

“Steve, Buck, and the rest of the guys just finished clearing out a Hydra base nearby. I know you probably hear it all the time back in the States, but they really _are_ amazin’. They liberated seventy-six prisoners. Wrecked half my gear doin’ it, though,” she said giving Bucky a look that would have been angry if it weren’t for the affection lining her every feature.

Bucky just smiled and kissed the side of her head loudly. “Ah, you don’t mind, Doll. It means you have something to do!” he said cheekily. 

She tried and failed to look anything but pleased and turned her attention back to the camera. “I hear you make a delicious Christmas ham, Mrs. Barnes-”

“She told you to call her Mom,” Bucky reminded her gently, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of her hand.

She looked a little embarrassed and glanced away from the screen before sitting up a little straighter, that look of determination Steve knew so well glinting in her eyes. “I hear you make a delicious Christmas ham, Mom. I can’t wait to try it.” 

Bucky grinned down at her, threw an arm over her shoulder, and reeled her into his side. “You gotta make enough for Steve now too, though. He eats his weight in food every day. It’s ridiculous.”

“What are you two doing?” He heard his own voice off screen.

She scrambled off the couch and practically vaulted to the recording machine. “GottagoloveyouMomandDadBuckyandIwillseeyousooncan’twaittobehomebye!” 

And just like that the video ended. The screen turned black and the next video played, back to the clips of war propaganda, Captain America cartoons, and the occasional recording of Peggy, Howard Stark or Colonel Phillips. 

Steve got up wordlessly from his seat in the back, his poor pamphlet crushed to a pulp in his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve visits an old friend then a new one. The assassination attempt on Nick Fury’s life doesn’t go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence, mental illness  
> A/N: Yup. Putting that gif up top because if I’m going to go for a low blow, I’m at least going to be upfront about it.

## 

[Originally posted by capntony](https://tmblr.co/ZNqn3y2X7Ny2j)

Steve left the Smithsonian as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself. The last thing he needed right then was to be mobbed by well-meaning fans.

His feet carried him where he needed to go without even realizing it and when he finally left the maze of his mind and looked around, he was in front of the fancy care home that Peggy lived in. Steve had learned that she’d been in and out of the hospital lots over the last ten years or so, but her family finally decided that she should live somewhere they could visit and that a hospital did no favors to her health.

Peggy had Alzheimer’s and even the best treatment in the world had done little to halt the horrific progression of the disease. Some days were worse than others, but Steve had wasted enough time these last few years.

Steve Rogers was many things, but a coward he was not.

The nurses and helpers all greeted him with friendly waves. Even a few of the patients gave him cheerful hello’s. The thing about being nearly a hundred years old was that even people who regressed back to their childhood could remember him.

He knocked quietly at her door and was relieved to see she was already awake, idly watching the TV on the wall. When she turned to look at him a bright smile lit up her heavily lined face and Steve didn’t have to hide his in return.

It was a good day, it seemed.

“Steve! I didn’t know you’d be visiting. Don’t just stand around all day, come sit,” she said, voice commanding even though she sounded weak.

Peggy always sounded weak nowadays.

“I should have given you some warning. I didn’t really think about comin’ over, it just kind of happened,” Steve said sheepishly, taking a seat in the chair beside her bed. “I woulda brought you flowers.” His Brooklyn accent always seeped out when he talked to Peggy. He was allowed to be Steve Rogers around her, not Captain America.

Peggy waved a feeble hand at him and scoffed. “I’ve never been one for flowers, Steve. You know that. My grandson just replaced them yesterday anyway. I wouldn’t have said no to a glass of scotch, though,” she said with a wink.

Steve grinned and shook his head. “No way. I don’t need Nurse Shelly comin’ after me. Not after last time.”

Peggy giggled quietly, her eyes bright. “She was rather cross with you, wasn’t she?”

Steve pretended to glare at Peggy, but he was smiling just as broadly. “It was all your idea. You told me it’d be fine!”

Peggy simply smiled that secret smile of hers. “Seeing you sing and dance was worth it. Mr. Jenson across the hall can complain all he likes. I don’t regret it one bit.”

Steve laughed and sat back in his chair. “Yeah, well, I don’t plan on being on that woman’s list again if I can help it.” There was a pause, then, “I went to the Smithsonian today.”

Peggy eyed him shrewdly. “Can’t get enough of yourself, huh? Had to go and see yourself immortalized in a National exhibit?” she asked playfully, though her eyes told him she knew what he must be feeling.

Steve smiled weakly at the playful jab. “Can’t help it if I look good in ten foot high murals.”

Peggy smiled at that, a soft laugh leaving her lips. She stared at him, though, smile leaving her face after a moment. “You looked at their memorial, didn’t you?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Steve ducked his head guiltily but Peggy only smiled knowingly. “I’m not going to yell at you, silly man. I used to do it too, you know. Back when your name was up on that wall with the two of them.”

Steve looked back up, blue eyes immeasurably sad, but Peggy was already shaking her head. “Oh no, you don’t get to feel guilty about it now, mister. What’s done it done.”

Steve pushed his bangs out of his eyes; a nervous tick he never kicked, even after nearly seventy years on ice. He couldn’t talk about them anymore. “I met a guy the other day. He was nice. Lapped him a few times in the National Mall. He’s ex-military. Para-rescue. He works at the VA now. Name’s Sam Wilson.”

Peggy smiled at him. “He seems like a nice young man.”

Steve laughed at that choice of words. He supposed that, to him and Peggy, just about any guy was a “nice young man.”

“Yeah, I s’pose he is. He asked me to visit the VA later.”

Peggy raised a wispy eyebrow at him. “And are you going to?”

Steve smiled cheekily. “Depends. Will you get Nurse Shelly to forgive me if I do?”

Peggy chuckled at that. “I think I can manage that. It might be good to go, you know. Mr. Wilson might even encourage you to leave your house for more than missions, exercise, and visiting me.”

Steve held his hands up in a defensive manner, smile attached firmly to his face. “Woah now, don’t get too crazy there, Pegs. Next you’ll tell me I need to learn how to use dating apps.”

She laughed in earnest at that; so hard Steve was worried she’d start coughing, but it seemed that wouldn’t be a problem.

The two of them sobered, though the air was still light with the remnants of smiles and laughter. He found his gaze wandering to the bedside table which was littered with pictures and letters and get well cards from friends and family.

“You should be proud of yourself, Peggy,” he said, lip quirked up at the corner.

Peggy followed his gaze, her thin hair scratching lightly against the pillow as she turned her head to look. “Mm. I have lived a life,” she said, gaze flicking to Steve. Her expression sobered a bit and Steve knew what was coming next. “My only regret is that you didn’t get to live yours.” Steve stared down at his hands and she could tell from that slight furrow in his brow that he was thinking too hard. “What is it?” she asked, that little hint of command seeping back into her voice.

“For as long as I can remember I just wanted to do what was right.” His blue eyes flicked up to Peggy, his eyes searching hers as though she had all the answers. “I guess I’m not quite sure what that is anymore.” He paused, his eyes dropping back down as he lost himself in his thoughts. “And I thought I could throw myself back in and follow orders. Serve.” He looked back up and put on that fake smile that made Peggy want to sigh. “It’s just not the same.”

Peggy huffed out a short laugh. “Always so dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes. Steve smiled in earnest and gave a little half shrug, looking away almost guiltily. “Look,” she said seriously, “you saved the world. “We rather… mucked it up,” she said, lips quirked upward in a smile that was closer to a grimace.

Steve shook his head. “You didn’t. Knowing you helped found SHIELD is half the reason I stay.”

She made a small noise in the back of her throat and reached for Steve’s hand. He leaned forward and let her take it and quietly lamented at how weak her grip had become. “The world has changed, and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best. And sometimes the best that we can do is to- start- over,” she gasped out, interrupted by a coughing fit.

Steve dropped her hand to scramble for the pitcher of water on the small table by the window. He returned as quickly as he could and sat back down, holding it out for her to take. He reached out with his hand to get her attention and she turned to look at him, her expression changing in a way that made his his heart sink.

Like she was seeing him for the first time in seventy years.

“Steve,” she breathed, awe in her voice.

Steve stared at her, biting back a torrent of emotions. Today had been such a good day for her. They’d been talking for close to an hour.

“Yeah,” Steve said softly.

She gasped, eyes already getting watery. “You’re alive. You came back.”

Steve swallowed thickly against the threat of tears and put on the bravest face he could manage. He was sure his smile was more of a grimace, but it was the best he could do.

“Yeah, Peggy,” he said quietly, unable to speak louder without his voice breaking.

She sniffled and shook her head slightly as she stared at him. “It’s been so long. _So long_ ,” she said, tears threatening to spill in earnest now.

Steve gave her a smile that he didn’t really feel and leaned forward, voice low. “Well I couldn’t leave my best girl. Not when she owes me a dance.”

Peggy sniffled. “Did you bring (Y/N) and James with you? I still haven’t given them their wedding present,” she asked, trying to reach past Steve for the bedside table.

Steve grabbed her hand gently before she got very far and shook his head slowly. It was a really bad episode if she thought (Y/N) and Bucky were still alive. “They’re not with me right now, Pegs, but I’ll be sure to tell them you want to see them, alright?” he asked, hoping he sounded comforting and not like he was about to cry.

Peggy smiled at him like she did all those years ago and Steve felt his heart break all over again. “I’d like that very much. Those two are just the most adorable couple I’ve ever seen,” she said fondly.

Steve’s smile was fixed on his face so stiffly that he was worried it’d stay that way forever. “Yeah, they are.”

* * *

Steve _did_ end up going to the VA.

By the time someone had come in to take care of Peggy (who’d fallen asleep shortly after her episode began. “Too much excitement,” Nurse Shelly had told him with a beady, accusing stare that sent him scurrying out the door) it was too late to make it in time to truly participate in the conversation, not that Steve was sure he could have anyway.

“Sam Wilson?” he asked the lady at the desk, who immediately went flustered and starry-eyed when she realized who he was.

She snapped a sloppy, frazzled salute to him and pointed down the hall. He gave her a polite “thank you, ma’am,” and walked leisurely in the direction she’d indicated. He could feel her eyes on his back the whole way.

The doors to the room were open and Steve leaned against the door frame, not wanting to interrupt the woman who was sharing. Sam was at the front of the room and Steve saw his eyes flick to Steve for a split second before returning to the woman. No one else seemed to realize he was there, which Steve was thankful for.

“The thing is, I think it’s getting worse. A cop pulled me over last week. He thought I was drunk. I swerved to miss a plastic bag. Thought it was an IED.” When she finished talking she looked down at her hands, missing the understanding looks the other vets were giving her.

“Some stuff you leave there,” Sam began. His voice was soothing and cut easily through the tension in the room. It was clear that this was a safe space and everyone in that room trusted Sam. “Other stuff you bring back. It’s our job to figure out how to carry it. Is it gonna be in a big suitcase, or in a little man purse? It’s up to you.”

Steve’s jaw worked as he mulled over Sam’s words. Peggy’s words from earlier bounced off his skull until there was nothing but a racket left for him to sift through.

* * *

Steve stayed and listened for the rest of the meeting, but never went and sat down. It was almost over, anyhow.

After, Sam said goodbye to some of the vets before making his way over to Steve, making busy work by reorganizing and stacking pamphlets. “Look who it is. The running man,” Sam said, throwing Steve a sly smirk over his shoulder.

Steve tucked his hands in his pockets and walked over. “Caught the last few minutes. It’s pretty intense.”

Sam nodded as he placed some cards back into the basket on the table. “Yeah, brother. We all got the same problems. Guilt, regret.” There was a tone in his voice and look in his eye that Steve knew all too well.

“You lose someone?” he asked quietly. Sam didn’t have to answer. It was a pretty personal question, after all.

But he did anyway. He nodded, eyes eventually landing on Steve though Steve could tell he wasn’t completely in the present. “My wingman, Riley. Flying a night mission. Standard PJ rescue op. Nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before. Until an RPG knocked Riley’s dumb ass outta the sky. Nothing I could do. S’like I was up there just to watch.”

Steve’s memory flashed to that Godforsaken train in the alps. Of (Y/N) and Bucky falling mere milliseconds before he got there.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said instead.

“After that, I had a really hard time finding a reason for being over there, y’know?” he said with a weak smile.

“But you’re happy now? Back in the world?” Steve asked, nodding his head towards the large stack of papers on the table.

Sam crossed his arms and the smile on his face was a little more genuine now. “Hey, the number of people giving me orders is down to about-” he made a show of looking around, “-zero? So, hell yeah.” He was smiling in earnest now, just like he had been at the National Mall. “You thinkin’ about getting out?”

Steve stared at a spot on the table. “No,” he said quickly with a little shake of his head. Then he paused and tilted his head, considering. “I don’t know.” He smiled that melancholy smile. “To be honest, I don’t know what I would do with myself if I did.”

Sam considered that for a moment, his lips tipping down at the corners. “Ultimate fighting?” Steve laughed and Sam chuckled. “Just a great idea off the top of my head,” he said, grinning. “Seriously, you could do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?”

Steve looked back at Sam, his lips straight in that almost-smile he wore too often these days. “I dunno.”

* * *

**Your POV**

The mission was simple. Assassination was simpler than extraction or escort.

One target. High value. Extremely capable. Proceed with caution.

Hydra sent out a small group of soldiers dressed as local police. Handler Pierce wanted to solve the problem without pulling you and the other Soldier into it if at all possible. You were valuable, best used in the shadows.

However, it was clear from the noise on the comms that the Hydra soldiers had failed and were in pursuit. You watched the screen in your hand, quickly tracking his most likely paths of escape.

You kicked the bike into life and shoved the tiny device back into your pocket. _“Hop off when I slow you down. Grab your Mag Disc Grenade launcher,”_ you said by way of warning. His right arm was already around your waist so he didn’t slide back even an inch when you sped forward out of the alley. The electric engine was nearly silent, perfect for stealth operations… ignoring the fact it was broad daylight out.

You’d drop him off at one of the most likely routes of egress of your target then head to the other yourself. You’d leave the bike with the other Soldier. If the target happened to take another route, you’d pursue one foot (well, jet skates) and he’d pursue on the bike.

But you trusted your calculations.

You slowed down at the corner of one of the intersections, pulling up on the curb and ignoring the gaggle of surprised onlookers. Most of them scattered when they got one look at the guns you were packing, but some stopped and took pictures, gawking like a bunch of brain-dead monkeys. You ignored them and felt the bike shift as the Soldier hopped off, mag launcher in hand. You parked the bike on the curb, knowing there was no way in hell anyone would be stupid enough to touch it after getting a single look at you and the other Soldier.

 _“What about you? There’s only one,”_ the Soldier said, holding up his launcher as the two of you started to walk away from the bike.

You rolled your eyes even knowing he couldn’t see the gesture behind your goggles. _“Shut up and do your job,”_ you said, grinning ferally beneath your mask as your razor-sharp wheels popped out of your feet. It the other Soldier said anything after that, it was drowned out by the roar of your twin heel jets and a half second later you were half a block away.

 _“I really don’t need this, you know. You should have taken it,”_ said his voice in your ear.

You growled your annoyance. _“I don’t need it either, idiot. A high-tech car like the target’s? I can fry it with a single touch. I doubt it can outrun me in this traffic anyway. Did you plan to punch it into submission?”_

The other Soldier made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. _“Are you in position?”_

You came to a stop in the middle of the street, ignoring the cars that swerved wildly to avoid you. A few drivers yelled angrily at you as they passed, but you ignored them, too. _“Of course. Tell me if you get a visual. It seems like the target lost the agents that had been pursuing him. I don’t information any-”_

_“I have a visual.”_

You groaned and fired your heel rockets up again and headed back to the other Soldier’s position. _“I’m headed back. Status?”_

 _“Mag grenade deployed.”_ There was the sound of an explosion in your headset and you were fairly sure that if you didn’t have your heel jets on you’d be able to hear the explosion and screams with your own ears. You could imagine the car flying through the air. In fact you rounded the corner just in time to watch the other Soldier sidestep the SUV, smoke wrapping around him like a cloak.

[Originally posted by katerinasgranger](https://tmblr.co/ZFTMhv26a6XMy)

_“Success. Target’s transport destroyed.”_

_“Finish him, then. I’ll be there in a moment with the bike and then we can return to Handler Pierce and inform him of our success.”_

You watched him wrench the door off its hinges and send it flying. You left him to finish the target and grabbed the bike which, as you’d expected, had been given a wide berth. You kicked it on and rolled over to the Soldier a half-block away. You knew immediately something had gone wrong. He was stalking towards you, but his posture was all wrong.

 _“What happened?”_ you asked, looking between him and the wreck.

You heard him through both the comm and the normal way as he hopped onto the bike behind you, sitting back to back so he could watch your six while you made your escape. There was a handle on the back for the express purpose of him being able to hang on while you drove. _“He used some sort of device to cut through the door of the SUV. Escaped into the sewers. Could be anywhere, especially if he has backup waiting for him.”_

You glowered as you weaved through the city’s streets, cutting through traffic and dodging places you knew had cameras. _“You should have chased after him.”_

 _“We can back and you can go down the sewers in a fruitless chase for our quarry, then.”_ When you didn’t respond he sounded almost smug. _“Didn’t think so.”_

_“You can tell Handler Pierce you let him get away from you, then.”_

He went stiff against your back and you knew that had struck a nerve. _“We still have eight hours.”_

You frowned. _“So it’s on me to find him again.”_

There was a pause, then, _“No, it’s on us.”_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha, Steve, and Maria reel at the [second] assassination attempt of Nick Fury. Hydra makes moves to cross the Black Widow and Captain America off its lists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), death, violence, guns, blood, dismemberment  
> A/N: “Quotes and italics” is Russian. Just italics is memories/thoughts.

## 

**Steve’s POV**

Steve watched through the large glass window as a team of nurses and doctors worked to save Nick Fury’s life. He registered the door behind him opening and a second later Natasha was by his side looking absolutely distraught.

“He gonna make it?” she asked, her tone calm even though her eyes were wide and scared.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered honestly. Three slugs to the chest. Straight through the bulletproof jacket. The mystery shooter with the metal arm had done a lot of damage.

“Tell me about the shooter,” Natasha said quietly, as though talking too loudly would somehow jinx Fury’s chances of making it out alive.

“He’s fast. Strong. Had a metal arm.” 

Natasha went silent next to him, but he didn’t see the look of horror on her face. “Ballistics,” Natasha said, question implied in the demand.

“Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable,” Agent Hill informed her. Leave it to her to stay serious and calm in this situation.

“Soviet-made,” Natasha said quietly, eyes transfixed on a point Steve couldn’t see.

Agent Hill looked over at her, surprised. “Yeah…”

“Was there a woman with him?” Natasha asked. It was clear her question was directed at Steve.

He couldn’t figure out what emotion that was lacing her voice. Steve frowned, gaze flicking to her then back to Fury. “No. I only saw them man with the metal arm. No other hostiles.”

Movement in the surgery room pulled their attention back. Nurses and doctors were yelling back and forth, but even Steve could tell something had gone wrong. Nick Fury was dying. He watched as they pulled the crash cart over then injected epinephrine into him.

“Don’t do this to me,” Natasha whispered.

Still no pulse.

Steve watched detachedly as they declared a time of death, his focus on the woman beside him. Natasha was reeling from the shock.

Director Nicholas J. Fury was dead.

* * *

**Your POV - Less Than An Hour Ago  
**

[Originally posted by kane52630](https://tmblr.co/Zq8Ljv2KUK0p3)

The Soldier jumped off the roof and landed right next to you. He rolled to diffuse the worst of the impact and was on the back of the bike within a second of hitting the pavement. You took off the moment his butt hit the seat. He must have been worried about making a hasty getaway because he was facing forward, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

_“Faster. My pursuer isn’t someone we want to fight if we can avoid it.”_

You didn’t dignify the demand with a response and simply sped up instead. The bike was quiet as a ghost in the night. Working in the darkness felt way more comfortable than attacking in broad daylight had.

_“Is he dead?”_ you asked once you were sure you were a safe enough distance away from any potential threats.

_“You tell me. Three shots to the chest, most likely. He was very careful not to give me a line of sight for a clear shot, but I was able to extrapolate his position from the way the blond man was talking to him. I know I hit, but I can’t be sure he’s dead unless we go back.”_

You shook your head, filing the mention of “the blond man” away for further questioning. _“I was too far away to activate backscatter imaging. I’ll have to trust your abilities.”_

_“It would have been better to have you there,”_ he said quietly.

You shook your head. _“Someone needed to have the bike ready to go. You’re a better shot even when you can’t see through the walls,”_ you said bluntly. It was true. You were great in short-duration hand-to-hand combat or as a shock trooper (literally), but he was a better shot and lasted longer in extended fights simply because he had greater strength and stamina. _“I’m a better driver anyway,”_ you added as an afterthought. _“We need to return to Handler Pierce. Our mission is done.” We’ll be returned to cryofreeze,_ you thought, but couldn’t bring yourself to say. You hated the cold place- feeling your blood freeze in your veins before you lost consciousness. They’d gotten better at the process over the years but the very idea still sent chills down your spine. It was for the best, though. You and the other Soldier didn’t function properly if they didn’t freeze and wipe you between missions. It was your own fault for being defective.

It was almost as if the other Soldier could read your train of thought. He gave you a gentle squeeze and you hated the way your body relaxed into his arms. You were on mission. Relaxing could kill you.

But it felt good, so you let it happen.

You felt him rest his head on your shoulder and you tutted half-heartedly. _“At least help me keep a lookout for danger,”_ you said quietly.

_“As you wish,”_ came the surprisingly subdued reply. He usually wasn’t this easygoing. You supposed if there was one time to care less about your behavior it would be after you completed a mission and were about to be wiped anyway. He lifted his head and you could tell he was carefully scanning his surroundings for any potential threat, though you both knew you’d spot anything before he did.

* * *

You and the Soldier returned to the bank that they’d been keeping you in, but they didn’t wipe you. Brock Rumlow was waiting with a small group of agents, though. You were to take orders from Rumlow of Pierce was absent.

“Change of plans. You’re to wait here on standby until we receive our next orders. Your mission was a success and Secretary Pierce is pleased, but he anticipates resistance as he moves forward with Project Insight,” Rumlow explained.

When you and the other Soldier simply stared at him he sighed and reached into his bag. Both you and the other Soldier tensed, expecting him to draw a weapon, but when he retracted his hand the only thing he had were a few plastic-wrapped packages. He threw them at the two of you and you caught them with ease though you eyed them dubiously, obviously expecting a trap.

“They’re food. Eat them.” Without another word he turned and left, leaving you and the other Soldier mostly alone in the bank vault. They didn’t close the door, but you knew there were at least ten men keeping guard just outside.

It was an order, so you and the Soldier obeyed. The packaging on the front revealed them to be protein bars. They weren’t bad, exactly, just too chewy and vaguely fake-tasting. There were three total and you had to practically shove the third one down the other Soldier’s throat. He didn’t want to eat it and insisted you at least split it, but you knew he needed the sustenance more than you did. He was the only one doing hard work today and he always burned calories faster than you anyway.

_“Eat it,”_ you hissed, trying in vain to shove the protein bar at him.

_“No, you should have it,”_ he insisted, stopping your arms with an ease that always infuriated you.

You glowered at him, but he didn’t look cowed at all. _“If you don’t eat this then I won’t eat mine at all,”_ you threatened.

He finally glared down at you and you felt a thrill of victory run through you. _“Fine, you stubborn woman.”_ He snatched it from your hand and ripped the package open, letting the silver and white wrapper flutter to the dirty bank floor. In a nearly feral move he opened his mouth wide and ripped the bar in half with his teeth, glowering malevolently at you as he chewed.

You tilted your head to the side, considering the childish action. It was… cute? The thought made you frown and you bit sullenly into your bar, doing your best to ignore the angry stares the other Soldier kept throwing your way as he unwrapped the second bar and began eating that, too. The two of you skirted around the edge of the room, staying as far away from the chair in the center of the room as possible. The two of you never strayed more than a few feet from one another and eventually settled in an alcove near the door. You switched your eyes to backscatter every few seconds, though the thick vault walls made it hard to see more than a few feet past it in any direction. 

_“Sleep.”_

You looked over at the other Soldier, face nearly free of expression minus the slight upward tilt of an eyebrow. 

_“I’ll sleep after. We’ll take turns like we’re supposed to on stakeout,”_ he amended quickly.

You stared at him for a moment longer, relaxing against the wall and trying to fall asleep as quickly as possible. Both of you had the ability to sleep at a moment’s notice, needing rest wherever and whenever you could get it.

You surprised the other Soldier by leaning over slightly, closing the few inch gap between you, and laying your head on his shoulder. The only inclination he gave of having noticed was how still he went the moment your cheek touched the leather of his black jacket.

You fell asleep not one minute later, the sound of his steady, quiet breathing lulling you to sleep.

You weren’t sure exactly how long you’d been asleep when Rumlow came barreling into the room a little later.

“Get up! You!” He pointed to you. You were completely awake and on your feet within a second of him stepping into the vault. The other Soldier was on his feet, too, and he was tracking Rumlow with the calculating eyes of a predator. “You’re coming with me. Just you.” He stared at the other Soldier. “You stay here. If things don’t go as planned I’ll be back for you.”

The other Soldier nodded, though his eyes were burning. The two of you worked better as a team and it was clear to you that he hated the idea of you being separated. You spared him a single glance over your shoulder as you followed Rumlow out of the bank vault, heart skipping a painful beat at the look on his face.

* * *

They loaded you onto a quinjet and flew you to New Jersey. Why they wanted you there was beyond you, but you knew better than to ask questions or second-guess orders.

You sat quietly in one of the seats on the jet, ignoring the Hydra agents that wisely gave you a wide berth. The ride was shorter than you’d been expecting and before you knew it they were marching you off the plane, Rumlow barking orders at you as you walked into the bombed out remains of an old military camp.

The surroundings looked familiar, but the base itself was reduced to rubble and you wouldn’t have been able to recognize what it once looked like even if you could access all of your long-buried memories. “Scan the debris in this area. Backscatter. You have that, right?” When you nodded an affirmative he pointed to a large pile of debris that looked to be part of an old building. It was a relatively huge hole in the ground. It would take you a while to search everything, even with your eyes.

“Am I looking for something specific?” you asked, voice raspy and quiet.

Rumlow nodded, a smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Bodies. Two. One male, one female.”

You nodded your understanding and walked away from him, gracefully dropping down into the hole, stepping off slabs of cracked concrete and brick as your eyes scanned every inch of the debris you could find.

It was what you spotted with your normal vision, though, that gave you pause.

You looked up, your faintly glowing eyes searching for Rumlow in the gloom. You spotted him immediately and sprang gracefully through the rubble, coming to a sudden halt in front of him that had him flinching and reaching for his gun. “Fuck, what is it?” he asked, eyeing you warily. His hand hovered nervously above his holster.

“Tracks leading out of the debris. Not standard tac boots. Civilian. No tracks leading in.”

Rumlow cursed. “How many? Just the one set?”

You shook your head. “Two pairs to begin with, then one. The smaller pair seemed to be stumbling, then they vanished. No body. Likely the owner of the larger set carried them off site.”

Rumlow swore loudly enough to give the nearby agents pause, his fist connecting loudly with the nearest half-destroyed wall. “Pierce is going to be pissed. He sacrificed Zola trying to kill those damn rats.”

_Zola._

The name rang out in your head, bouncing inside your skull until it was a deafening cacophony that blocked out all other thoughts.

_You and I vill do great things, Fräulein.  
_

_You vill cooperate if you vant your precious man to live.  
_

_I haf made you **better** , Fräulein. You should be thanking me.  
_

_I gave you life. You will stomp Hydra’s enemies out of existence._

You head spun as the nasally, slimy voice filled your mind. Rumlow was too caught up in his own problems to notice, but you felt yourself nearly lose your balance before your hand shot out to steady yourself on an upright slab of concrete.

_Gone._

You tried to take a deep steady breath, gulping down air greedily.

_Gone,_ your mind insisted again. The source of that voice was gone, though you weren’t sure how you knew that voice belonged to the man Rumlow mentioned. Perhaps it was the same way you knew over a hundred way to kill a man without a weapon but couldn’t remember your name, how old you were, or where you were born.

The thought bolstered you more than you thought possible. You stood up straight, a deep sense of calm overtaking your senses. Up until that moment you hadn’t realized how tightly coiled your muscles were. Hadn’t felt the dark feeling swirling deep in your gut, _wrongess_ permeating your entire being. Your body felt lighter than it ever had and you found yourself smiling almost manically. It was sheer luck that you were facing the wall and none of the Hydra agents noticed. You were sure they’d send you back to the chair if they saw you displaying emotion too openly.

“Asset.”

By the time you turned around to face Brock Rumlow, your face was as impassive as ever.

“You’re to rendezvous with the other Soldier at Secretary Pierce’s estate. Ensure you’re not seen entering the premises. He’ll give you instructions there. Your motorcycle is in the jet you came in. My boys are unloading it now. Dismissed.”

The moment he uttered that last word you were moving, eager to put this place behind you. It gave you chills and stirred that dark place in your mind that you’d long learned to ignore because it only brought more mind wipes and hours of painful torture.

* * *

**A few hours later, Washington DC**

The other Soldier had arrived before you and it was too risky to talk about anything in Pierce’s home, so you said nothing about Zola. You and the Soldier sat amongst the dark shadows in the dining area. Neither of you moved and it was only the faint glow of your eyes in the darkness that alerted Alexander Pierce to your presence. He shut the refrigerator door, eyes flicking between the two of you quickly.

“I’m going to go, Mister Pierce,” the maid said from the hallway. Your and the other Soldier’s eyes flicked to the doorway, though neither of you moved an inch. “You need anything before I leave?” she asked. It was pure luck she hadn’t rounded the corner and seen the two of you sitting there. Your gazes swiveled back to Pierce, looking for any orders about the situation. Neither of you had been spotted coming in, of course. You weren’t the deadliest assassins in history for nothing.

But you’d been ordered to his house and you wouldn’t leave unless Pierce told you to.

Without taking his eyes off the two of you, he spoke loudly enough for the maid to hear. “No, uh. It’s fine, Renata. You can go home.”

“Okay, night night!” she called happily, exhaustion just barely tingeing her voice.

You used your backscatter imaging to watch her throw her purse over her shoulder and walk out the front door. You flicked your vision back to normal, eyes falling on Pierce once again.

“Want some milk?” Pierce asked the two of you, turning his back on you to grab a glass from the cupboards. The two of you barely blinked in response as he sat the glass down on the counter and poured himself a small amount. He shrugged when neither you nor the other Soldier said anything. “The timetable has moved. Our window is limited.”

He took a long sip of milk and walked around the kitchen island, coming to sit across from the other Soldier. You eyed him from your spot atop the raised fireplace hearth.

“Two targets, level six. They already cost me Zola. I want confirmed death in ten hours,” Pierce ordered.

“Oh- uh, Mister Pierce, I…” Renata turned the corner, her gaze first falling on Pierce then to you and the other Soldier. The two of you stared at her, gazes flat and uncaring as she shifted nervously, mind struggling to process what it was seeing.

Pierce turned in his chair to look at her, his gaze not giving anything away.

“I, uh… forgot my phone…” she said nervously.

You glared at her, knowing what came next. She saw the two of you with Handler Pierce. Any second now he’d give the order and-

“Oh, Renata,” Pierce sighed, picking up the pistol on the table. “I wish you would have knocked.”

Before she had a chance to react Pierce fired two shots into her chest, sending her reeling backwards, crashing to the ground in an unsightly heap. She was dead before she hit the carpet.

“Take care of that before you go, would you?” Pierce said as he returned the gun to the table. He stood and walked over to the sink, washing his hands of any gun residue.

When he turned around and the two of you were still sitting as still as statues his gaze turned hard. “You have your orders. Dismissed.”

* * *

By the end of the next hour, Renata was in pieces in the bottom of the Potomac, fingers cut off at the ends and teeth pulled for good measure. If she was ever found, they’d never find all of her, much less be able to identify her.

You and the Soldier holed up in a Hydra safe house. You sat in front of a wall of monitors, eyes flicking to each one in turn, taking in all the information you could.

Two targets. Off the grid. Targeting Hydra operations.

Steven Grant Rogers and Natasha Alianovna Romanoff.

Deadly, experienced, driven. A dangerous combination.

_“If this were us, what would we do?”_ you asked, glancing over at the other Soldier, who was watching the screens carefully, too.

The Soldier’s gaze flicked to you, blue eyes bright and thoughtful with the challenge at hand. _“Project Insight is their goal. They’ll aim to take the Triskelion. It’s too heavily fortified to attack head on. If I were them I’d look for an in. Someone that can get them past security.”_

You nodded and watched the data streams and video feeds flicker across the screens. _“Who are they going to go after?”_

The other Soldier flicked through the tablet in his hand, likely searching through the database of Hydra agents. _“They were on the Lemurian Star. They’ve likely realized Sitwell is Hydra. He has the clearance needed to get them on the base.”_

_“Sitwell?”_ you asked, turning to look at him.

_“Agent Jasper Sitwell. Level 7 SHIELD Clearance. Working for Hydra since he was 17. He’s been deep undercover in SHIELD for years.”_

You looked back to the screen, watching as the facial recognition software searched any and all sources for your targets. _“Expendable?”_

_“Targets are a level 6. Every agent except Handler Pierce is expendable,”_ the other Soldier said without hesitation. _Even you and me._ The words hung unspoken between the two of you.

_“We’ll continue surveillance in shifts. Track Sitwell closely. I have copies of his timetable and I’ve already entered it in my system. If he makes any unscheduled stops or moves in an unpredictable way, we’ll know he’s been compromised. At that point he’ll lead us directly to our targets.”_

The other Soldier nodded in understanding. _“And if they don’t try to use Sitwell?”_

_“They have to go to the Triskelion if they wish to stop Project Insight. If it comes to that, we’ll be there waiting.”_

He leaned back against the headboard, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

You looked over your shoulder at him. _“Go to sleep. I’ll take the first shift.”_

He shook his head. _“No.”_

You turned away from the screens to glare at him. _“Why not? It’s your turn.”_

He tilted his head and regarded you for a moment. _“I’ll sleep on one condition.”_

You bit back a sigh. _“What is it?”_

“Come sit with me.”

You froze, staring at him with mild shock. You looked at his seemingly relaxed pose, the way his legs were propped up and open, the space between them inviting. You quickly weighed your options.

_“You promise you’ll sleep?”_

_“Yes.”_

You looked at the screens again before you sighed and walked over to the bed, climbing dutifully on top and placing yourself directly between his legs. Your back was to his broad chest so you could watch your work, thankful that your eyes made it possible to see even the tiniest of writing on the screen.

The Soldier sat stiffly for a moment and you had a second to fear that you’d done something wrong, but a second later his arms were wrapping around your waist and his forehead was resting against the back of your neck.

You tried to ignore your pounding heart, choosing instead to focus on the task in front of you. _“This is acceptable?”_

The only response you got was a quiet content noise followed by deep, even breathing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Targets: Natasha Alianovna Romanoff and Steven Grant Rogers. Level Six. Eliminate with extreme prejudice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), violence, guns, blood, explosions  
> “Quotes and italics” is Russian. Just italics is memories/thoughts.  
> IT’S ABOUT TO GET REAL BOIS

[Originally posted by cclrissian](https://tmblr.co/ZmMlwc2VpW5wk)

_“Unpredicted movement. Agent Sitwell has been compromised.”_

You awoke immediately and shook off the daze of sleep within seconds. _“Alert the strike team. I’ll finish up here.”_

The Soldier nodded wordlessly at you and left the room immediately, his passage marked by nary a whisper of footsteps on the carpet.

You watched the video feeds closely, tapping relentlessly on the screens and keyboards until you had every possible angle of cameras at the time of Sitwell’s charge in course. You could see him receive a call and then follow a previously unidentified man to a grey car. Facial recognition software revealed him to be Samuel Thomas Wilson, ex-military. Not affiliated with Hydra or SHIELD. Threat level 2. Not much of a concern. Undetermined how he became involved with the targets. You managed to track the generic-looking vehicle using traffic cameras. It was relatively easy to map out the intended path. Whatever Wilson’s plan was, he was obviously pressed for time. If he kidnapped Sitwell he had to know Project Insight was set to begin soon. He didn’t have time to lead you and the rest of Hydra on a wild goose chase. They had to get to the Triskelion as soon as possible.

 _“Do you have a location?”_ the other Soldier asked, looming quietly in the doorway like a specter.  You could hear the strike team scrambling in the rooms beside yours.

_“Affirmative. I used Sitwell’s phone to pinpoint his location. I doubt they’ll stay there long, though.”_

The Soldier nodded. _“Understood. We’ll leave immediately.”_

You pocketed the small holographic projector that had Sitwell’s tracking information and turned to the door, taking care to grab your electric pulse bomb belt from the bed as you walked past it. _“Did you grab your-”_

 _“Yes, I have the new grenades you built for me,”_ the Soldier said, tapping the small spherical grenades secured in the pouch at the small of his back.

You clicked your grenade belt firmly in place and followed the Soldier out the door to your bike. _“You’re driving. I have to track Sitwell.”_

 _“Got it.”_ He swung his leg over the jet black bike and you slid on behind him, humming in appreciation as he turned on the near-silent engine. You heard the Hydra agents shuffling behind you, packing themselves into a dark matte grey Hummer that’d follow you with heavier weapons. You already gave them the same tracker you had in your pocket on the off chance they weren’t able to follow you somewhere.

The Soldier peeled out of the alley with a speed that you were quietly impressed with (maybe he could be taught, after all). You called directions quietly in his ear, but before you could zero in on your targets Sitwell began moving again.

_“Changed course. Headed towards the Triskelion. We can head them off on the freeway. They’re not making particularly good time. They likely don’t want to draw undue attention to themselves.”_

The Soldier sped up and headed for the nearest freeway entrance, easily swerving between traffic. You trusted him to get you to the targets in one piece and devoted your entire attention to tracking your target. A few cameras picked up someone matching Target: Steven Grant Roger’s profile. The other man from the cafe was also spotted near Sitwell. They’d changed cars, but that was easy to track, too, until they’d gotten on the freeway. No sign of Target: Natalia Alianovna Romanoff, but he was a highly trained spy, gifted in hiding from all forms of surveillance.

 _“Closing in fast. One minute until targets will be in sight. Dark Chevy Impala. Four suspected passengers,”_ you informed him.

 _“Do you want to disable their vehicle or should I?”_ came the Soldier’s rough gravelly voice in your ear.

_“You. I’ll be a smear on the road if they manage to shake me off.”_

_“How thoughtful of you,”_ he said dryly.

You ignored the rare display or something besides coldness or stubbornness. _“Move over,”_ you said, shoving the holo in your back pocket. You stood on the back of the motorcycle, ignoring the fact that you were going nearly a hundred miles an hour (160 kph) down the freeway, and quickly stepped over the Soldier’s arms. He let go of the handlebars right as you grabbed them and his feet left the brake and gear change lever as you took your seat in front of him. The entire switch took less than five seconds, a testament to how well you worked around one another. The bike didn’t swerve and inch.

You felt him grab the holo projector screen out of your back pocket, opening it up to see how close you’d gotten.

There wasn’t much point, though.

You spotted the target.

_“Targets sighted. Four targets confirmed. Pulling alongside the vehicle now.”_

You shot forward in a burst of speed, barely registering the Soldier shoving the holo back in your pocket as he prepared to jump. The moment you were within a few feet the Soldier leapt. You were prepared to be used as a springboard, easily adjusted the bike to account for the force, and stayed perfectly on course. You did, however, drop back and let the other Soldier work. You didn’t fancy getting crushed under the sedan.

Within a second of hitting the roof the Soldier shoved his arm through the rear driver side window, grabbed Agent Sitwell and threw him into oncoming traffic as though he weighed nothing. You could barely hear his scream over the traffic and wind. He pulled his pistol and you watched with backscatter as the small woman- Target: Natasha Alianovna Romanoff- dodged the bullets the Soldier shot through the roof. She even ducked forward into the front seat, pulling one of the men out of the way, too. She shoved the driver- Wilson- out of the way with her foot.

The man in the passenger seat- Target: Steven Grant Rogers- shifted the car into park and you swerved neatly out of the way. There was a surreal moment where you sped alongside the Soldier, who’d been thrown from the roof and through the air from the sudden stop.

You saw red when his head hit the filthy road, a small wave of relief leaving you when he righted himself instantly and dug his fingers into the concrete to slow himself down. The awful noise grated on your ears as he screeched to a halt, sparks flying from his fingertips.

Traffic swerved around their stalled car and you slowed down, turning your head so you could watch the scene unfold behind you.

The Soldier stood slowly and the targets were so focused on the threat he posed that they didn’t see your backup- the hummer packed with soldiers- speeding towards them. The woman pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the other Soldier, but it was too late.

The hummer crashed into the back of the small Chevy and sent the tiny car hurtling forward down the freeway, brakes and wheels squealing in protest. No matter how hard Wilson braked, the hummer’s superior horsepower ensured they couldn’t stop. You watched as the other Soldier jumped and flipped midair just in time to avoid getting run over. His metal hand shot out and grabbed the roof of the car and when he fell his heavy combat boots knocked out the back window.

The cars screeched past you and you locked eyes with the Target: Natalia Alianovna Romanoff. It should have been impossible because of your goggles, but you know she looked straight into your eyes.

But a split second later the car was being shoved down the highway past you and you reactivated your backscatter, frowning angrily when you saw her reaching for the gun on the floor of the passenger side.

 _“Gun,”_ you warned, already speeding your bike back up in pursuit of the cars.

You were sure the Soldier heard you, but he was in the middle of shoving his hand through the windshield and yanking the steering wheel straight out of the driver’s hands. He threw it behind him and you watched as the woman finally grasped the gun and pointed it at the roof.

 _“Move now!”_ you hissed into the comm.

The Soldier was in motion as you were speaking, jumping gracefully onto the hummer behind him. The bullets sailed uselessly past him. The hummer fell back at the sudden turn of events, but quickly sped up again at ramming speed. The Soldier stayed plastered to the hood of the car, barely even flinching when it crashed into the sedan again.

This time, the hit sent the car careening into the cement dividers, smashing the frame enough that the tires bent inward. Without a way to steer the car, it came as no surprise to you that they decided to bail out.

The car went flying into the air and, at just the right moment, the man in the passenger seat grabbed hold of the other two and shoved hard at the door. It came off the hinges with surprising ease and the three of them fell out of the car. The door emitted sparks as it skidded along the cement. The hummer avoided the spiraling sedan, racing past the targets which were slowing down quickly. Wilson was rolling quickly and the other two had somehow managed to stay on top of the car door.

You pulled your bike to a sudden halt and ignored the screeching of tires around you as civilians attempted to avoid the wreck in front of them. A few of them took one look at you and ducked down in their cars. One even attempted to reverse into oncoming traffic.

You dismounted your bike and started walking towards your targets, who’d composed themselves rather quickly. You were closest to Wilson, but he wasn’t your target. He’d be eliminated after you killed the Level 6′s.

One look at the weapon in the other Soldier’s hands had you ducking behind a moving van. You heard the grenade being expelled from the launcher and a half second later an explosion lit up the area around you, filling the air with acrid smoke. You watched Target: Steven Grant Rogers get blown off the side of the overpass by the blast. Judging from the way he was flailing he was still alive. Target: Natalia Alianovna Romanoff had managed to avoid the blast by the skin of her teeth.

 _“Target status,”_ the other Soldier requested. Since he was looking directly at the woman, he must have meant the man. You turned your eyes on the street below, searching quickly for the other target. You spotted him within a second in an overturned bus. A few civilians were running or limping out of it and even more were staring at the accident in shock. He stumbled to his feet and began helping people from the bus.

_“Target: Steven Grant Rogers is still alive.”_

_“I’m going after him. You take the woman. Leave the other man to the agents.”_

[Originally posted by buckynsebimagines](https://tmblr.co/Za4Gnj21yf4pc)

_“Understood.”_ You saw the other Soldier jump over the edge of the overpass but stopped watching after that. You had a deadly target that you wouldn’t underestimate.

Wilson had been sent running for cover and the target had managed to down one of the agents, but she was searching everywhere for you. She’d seen you earlier and even that brief glimpse had shown you the fear in her eyes.

Your wheels emerged from your feet and you turned your heel jets on. It came as no surprise that she whirled to face you the moment she heard them. You were too fast for her, though. You weaved between cars and moved erratically so that she was unable to get a bead on you. She was good, though. Her bullets missed by inches whereas most people missed by feet/meters.

Being shot didn’t feel good and you’d like to avoid it if at possible.

You grabbed a grenade from your belt and threw it at her, scowling when she jumped over the side of the bridge to avoid it.

She couldn’t outrun you, but you’d hoped you could finish this quickly and help the Soldier. Something about the woman made you uncomfortable.

You followed her off the bridge, knowing it would take more than jumping off a thirty foot high overpass to kill her. You crashed heavily to the ground, letting your cybernetic legs absorb the impact. The cement had deep indents in it and you had to nearly pry your feet from the holes. Your body still ached in protest, but you knew the jump hadn’t done any severe damage.

The target wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but there were only so many places she could hide from you.

You activated backscatter, searching in and around nearby cars. She was fast, but not fast enough to make it all the way into one of the buildings nearby.

A noise above and behind you made you whirl and you flinched as a bullet grazed your goggles. It cracked the clear red material and you glowered, pulling them off in a smooth motion.

She stared down the barrel of her pistol at you, but you both knew the same thing: That had been her last shot. Only an amateur wouldn’t keep count.

She stared defiantly at you, though you somehow knew she was afraid even though she gave no discernible outward signs.

But she was on the ground, barely a hundred yards from you, and with no pistol to defend herself.

You would be done here and on your way in less than a minute.

You rushed forward with your heel jets, eyeing the way she dug around in her pockets for a weapon. 

You charged your hand up, shiver rolling down your spine as you drained two power cells. This much energy could kill twenty people, but you wanted to be sure of it. She was a Level 6, after all. 

Her eyes widened as though she knew what you were doing and somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered how she knew exactly how dangerous your fist was.

Before it could connect with her, though, something came flying at you from out of nowhere, sending you flying away from your target. You landed heavily against an SUV and the doors bowed a bit in the shape of your body.

You definitely had some fractures.

You fell forward, landing heavily on your feet. Your eyes flicked to the new threat.

Target: Steven Grant Rogers had joined your fight, but the other Soldier was hot on his heels.

[Originally posted by maiden-marvel](https://tmblr.co/Zznseg28KTgcp)

Judging from the sounds of gunfire on the roof the single man was giving the other agents a hard time. The Soldier was having a tough enough time with the male target that you knew he’d be hard pressed if the redhead joined their fight. You groaned, your body protesting at moving after being hit by the giant metal frisbee the man was using. Landing against a car hadn’t helped, either.

You didn’t have time to dwell on your injuries.

You raced forward, but the redhead had already recovered. She’d managed to reload her pistols while you’d been gathering your wits and she didn’t hesitate to unload her mags on you. The Soldier appeared in front of you in time to block the shots with his metal arm and return her fire.

Except he brought a grenade launcher to a pistol fight.

She managed to dodge it in time and it exploded into a car twernty feet behind her. You were already moving out from behind the Soldier and made a beeline for the man.

Between his shield and his reflexes, you found it almost impossible to land a solid hit on him. His shield didn’t conduct your electricity well. It seemed like only a solid hit to him would work.

A police cruiser came careening around the corner, but it exploded in a shower of flames a second later. None of you even flinched. The four of you danced in the street, swapping partners and tactics as needed.

The targets worked well together. It was obvious they’d fought together a lot.

But they had nothing on you and the other Soldier. Some time during your fight the other Soldier managed to get a clean shot on the woman’s shoulder and suddenly you had almost no trouble fighting her. She knew not to get close to you and let Target: Steven Grant Rogers fight you more often than not. You saw her practically vault off the other Soldier more than once, twisting and kicking in a way that felt almost familiar. At one point she nearly garroted him with a wire but he managed to throw her off. The target had gone to her aid immediately, but you cut him off with a particularly brutal kick: Your left foot’s talons dug into the ground, anchoring you firmly in place while your right leg delivered a jet-powered roundhouse kick to the man, who barely raised his shield in time. It didn’t break half his bones like it would have in normal people, but it did send him flying over cars until he was out of sight.

Now that they were separated, the two of you went back to your original plan: you’d go after her and the other Soldier would go after him.

She was losing blood and was down to just her fists. The fight was almost over and it seemed like she could sense it, too.

You hadn’t taken her for someone who’d beg for their life.

_“Mashenka, it’s me. Please. You know me.”_

You walked toward her slowly. Using your jets now would just be a waste.

_“You trained me. Do you remember? In the Red Room?”  
_

You wondered why she was mentioning some place you didn’t know about, but quickly pushed it from your mind.

_“It’s me. Natalia. You knew me since I was ten. You and Yashenka. You taught me everything I know.”  
_

You frowned behind your mask, a stabbing pain in your head nearly giving you pause. She was making you think. Thinking hurt. She reminded you of fresh-baked bread and ballet and beautiful Russian sunsets, but you didn’t know why. Those weren’t your memories. You were a weapon and weapons didn’t need nice things like that. _  
_

You charged your fist with two power cells with a snarl, wincing as the wires in your hand and arm tingled with the electricity. She wasn’t even backing up or trying to run away. If she thought you’d let her live because she spun a story, she was gravely mistaken.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

You froze mid-stride. The sound of the other Soldier’s voice over the comm in your ear made your world grind to a halt. The comms had been mostly silent up until that point with just the occasional grunt or groan you’d grown accustomed to when the other Soldier fought.

Your moment’s hesitation was all the target needed. A bright flashbang grenade went off, overwhelming the sensors in your artificial eyes. You heard an explosion in the distance and cursed. Not even your backscatter was working. You were completely blind and with all the noise from earlier, you weren’t sure you’d be able to hear the woman’s near-silent steps until you had a blade sticking out of your throat.

When an arm wrapped around your waist you nearly shocked the person attached to it to death, but you quickly registered that it was metal, not flesh.

 _“I’m blind,”_ you whispered, throwing one arm securely around the other Soldier’s neck.

The Soldier wrapped both arms around you. You could tell he was booking it away from your targets. Helicopters and a small army of cars closing in on your position. Even thought you were blinded you could hear that much. _“Hydra will take care of them. We’ve done our part. I’ve got you. You’re safe,”_ he assured you. His voice was quiet. Subdued.

He was as troubled as you were.

* * *

**Steve’s POV**

Bucky.

Bucky was alive.

He was in a daze even as Rumlow and a horde of Hydra agents shoved him, Natasha, and Sam to their knees.

If Bucky was alive, then-

His eyes widened in realization.

The woman. The other Winter Soldier.

It was (Y/N).

The Hydra agents shoved the three of them into an armored vehicle and Steve couldn’t find it in him to put up any resistance.

By the time Steve could pull himself from his thoughts, they were probably halfway to whatever hell Hydra had planned for them.

“It was them. (Y/N) and Bucky. Bucky looked right at me… an’ he didn’t even know me,” Steve said, distraught.

Natasha grimaced as she clutched a scrap of fabric to the hole in her shoulder. She looked dangerously pale. “They trained me… in the Red Room.” She winced and took a shuddering breath. Steve looked up at her, surprised. “But I had no idea they were your old war buddies, Steve…”

Sam frowned. “How was that even possible? It was like seventy years ago,” Sam said, disbelief coloring his voice.

Steve practically glared a hole through the bottom of the van. “Zola. Bucky’s whole unit and (Y/N) were captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on ‘em. Tortured them both. Neither of them ever gave me details and I never wanted to pressure them into talking about it. Whatever he did helped them survive the fall.” He finally looked up at his friends, dread creeping into his stomach. If he had just been stronger-

“None of that’s your fault, Steve,” Natasha said weakly, her gaze unfocused.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky. (Y/N) was practically my sister.” Steve’s gaze returned to the ground as his guilt ate him from the inside out.

Sam glanced over at Natasha, his eyes widening when he saw the blood dripping down her brown leather coat. “You need to get a doctor here. We don’t put pressure on that wound she’s gonna bleed out here in the truck.”

The guard on the left brandished the shock baton threateningly at Sam who flinched at the sudden movement and noise. Sam and Steve stared at the guard, apprehension lining their features, and Natasha’s head simply lulled to the side in a daze.

But then the guard shoved the baton into the gut of the guard on the right, taking all three of them by surprise. A swift kick to the head and the guard was down for the count.

Agent Maria Hill removed her helmet, her hair splayed everywhere. “Ah. That thing was squeezing my brain,” she lamented to the stunned passengers. She let out a sigh of relief then turned an unimpressed gaze on Sam. “Who’s this guy?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repairs. You’re broken. The other Soldier is broken. The man on the bridge broke him and Pierce wants him fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swearing (always), violence, guns,

[Originally posted by thecadhatter](https://tmblr.co/ZfVyFc2TkwX6T)

  **Your POV**

You hadn’t made it more than a few blocks in the other Soldier’s arms when an unmarked SUV pulled up to the curb, gave you and the Soldier a few choice code words, and ushered you quickly inside.

Your vision was still blurry from the flash grenade so you relied on the other Soldier to protect and guide you. You’d never been incapacitated this way before so he practically growled when any of the agents came near you.

You knew when you walked into the abandoned bank from the smell alone. The white of the scientists’ lab coats and the black uniforms of the agents were nothing more than vague blobs in your vision. Backscatter was still fried, giving you nothing but grey fuzz. The machinery in the room whirred quietly and you could picture the chair in the center of all the activity in your mind’s eye. Even imagining it sent a chill down your spine so you quickly blocked out the thought.

“Status, Assets?” you heard one of the squirrely scientists ask. They were afraid of you.

“Ocular circuits overloaded,” you informed them detachedly. You hated it. Hated not being able to see clearly. It made you vulnerable. “Partial vision retained.”

“Partial circuit damage. Bicep,” you heard the other Soldier say. Something in his voice was off, though. Like he wasn’t completely aware of what he was saying. Of what was going on.

It set your teeth on edge. You were blind and he wasn’t fully cognizant. The only thing that had been keeping you calm to that point was thinking he was fully aware and covering for your weakness.

The scientists bustled around you like buzzing gnats and it took every scrap of your patience and training not to kill them. They wisely kept their hands to themselves, though once or twice one of their number shined lights in your eyes or tested your reflexes with sudden movements (now _that_ had nearly gotten the stupid man killed).

“We’ll repair you first, Asset. You’ll fix him once we’re finished,” one of the scientists said. You were able to make out just enough by this point to know he was looking at you. “In the chair,” he ordered shakily.

You turned to stare at the black mass, terror running down your spine. Were they going to wipe you or just repair your eyes like they said? You didn’t have a choice and delaying would only increase the chances of the former. You walked toward it carefully, each step deliberate and calculated so you wouldn’t trip. You remembered the room enough that you made it to the chair without incident. The chair itself… you would remember the feel of its sweat-stained black leather for the rest of your life, no matter how many times they wiped you. It stunk like fear and pain and you nearly vomited as you sat down in it.

You laid back in the chair, ears listening for the sound of the machine warming up.

It never came, though. The scientists fluttered around you until suddenly they were over you, prying your eyelids open so they could get to your cybernetics. Between their chattering, the tools they were using, and the near-constant touching of your face you nearly snapped and killed them all until a cold, hard hand placed itself lightly around your ankle.

It was chilly and unyielding and by all accounts should have been less comforting than the warm human hands touching you, but you’d you immediately relaxed slightly, focusing all of your attention on that careful caress.

You couldn’t see him, but the other Soldier sat at your feet, his face unreadable as he stared at your prone form on the chair. His fingers barely moved, his thumb shifting back and forth minutely and slowly so as to not draw attention to the action. You wondered at how the other Soldier knew you were about to have a meltdown, but decided not to question it. If you hurt the scientists Handler Pierce would almost definitely wipe you. Everything went black and your entire body tensed, alarmed by the sudden and complete loss of sight, but then the scientists retreated and a second later you could see once again in the near perfect detail you were so used to. You blinked slowly, testing backscatter and normal vision a few times, mostly ignoring the scientists’ hovering and invasive looks.

“Repairs adequate,” you informed them. They nodded and immediately set to work taking notes. You wouldn’t be surprised if they made new eyes for you the next time you were frozen.

For the first time since the fight on the streets a few hours ago your eyes fell upon the other Soldier, vision clear.

You froze halfway out of the chair, eyes widening slightly.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The Soldier was practically curled in on himself, barely moving. His eyes were glazed over and staring at a point that only he could see.

“Move, Assets. Pierce will be here soon,” one of the guards said testily. The scientists shifted nervously, not wanting to get close to either of you if you weren’t restrained.

You moved, but the other Soldier didn’t. You placed a hand to his shoulder and tried your best not to flinch when he jolted, head snapping up to look at you. His eyes were wild, the bright blue confused and searching as though you had all the answers. Whatever he was looking to you for, though, he didn’t find it. Something behind his eyes shuttered closed again and he allowed himself to be sat into the chair. You took your place on the stool to his left, pulling over the cart of tools, though you ended up using the ones secured in your legs more often than not.

The Soldier stared ahead, eyes not seeing anything. A thin sheen of sweat covered his skin and you kept a close eye on him, confusion and concern hidden behind a mask of indifference. If he kept acting like this they would wipe him, but you couldn’t talk to him in front of all the guards and scientists. They were watching your every move, trying to glean information about the way his arm worked as well as how your mind worked even after all the mind wipes. Somehow, you had the knowledge of how to fix his arms and your legs and fingers, though you couldn’t physically fix your own eyes. You relied on the scientists for that, a concession that made you uncomfortable.

The other Soldier leaned forward suddenly, head whipping around. The look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t seeing what was around him. His chest was heaving and his hair was splayed across his face.

He let out a shuddering gasp and tilted further forward. When he didn’t move again immediately you leaned down so you could see his face, searching for any spark of recognition and finding none.

Faster than you could even process, his metal fist was around your neck, cutting off most of your air. His blue eyes were staring through you, his mind trapped in whatever thoughts were haunting him.

All around you the scientists scurried away in fear while the Hydra agents rushed forward, shouting at him to let you go. For all the good it did them they may as well have been yelling at a wall. Their guns were all drawn and pointed at the Soldier who gave no indication of noticing.

You gasped uselessly for air, fighting against every instinct that told you to reach out and shock your attacker to death.

It was as though your hand had a mind of its own as it reached out and touched his face gently. Your fingertips brushed against his cheek and the effect was instantaneous. His grey-blue eyes focused on your face and he let out a shuddering breath. His gaze dropped to his hand around your neck and suddenly it was gone in a flash, as though your skin had burned him. He stared at the metal appendage with something akin to horror before looking back up at you, confusion and self-hatred lining every feature.

You sat completely still as he reached forward tentatively with his right hand, freezing halfway to your face as his breathing hitched. You kept your eyes glued to his as you leaned forward slowly and placed your cheek in his palm. The guards and scientists around you were still tense and nervous, but you and the Soldier relaxed. The nervousness in his eyes softened and he ran his thumb over your cheek. The touch was too intimate to be safe in front of the others, but you could tell from a single look that he needed it. Needed you to ground him.

Against what, when, who, or where, you didn’t know.

“S-Sir. The male. He’s unstable. Erratic.”

The two of you tensed when the doors to the vault opened. The Soldier’s hand dropped back to his side a split second before Handler Pierce walked in the door and a second later his gaze left you. You frowned as he retreated back into his own head, his gaze clouding over once again.

You stood as Handler walked into the room, eyes flicking to the numerous agents whose guns were still trained on the other Soldier. They lowered their weapons as Pierce waved them away. He stopped just a few steps away from the Soldier, just out of reach.

You watched, body coiled tight with trepidation, as Pierce stowed his glasses in the inner pocket of his suit jacket and stared down at the other Soldier, eyes cold and assessing. Rumlow circled the two of you like a shark. You closed your eyes once or twice and used backscatter to watch him when he left your normal line of sight.

The other Soldier made no indication that he knew the Handler was there.

“Mission report,” Handler Pierce ordered, staring at the other Soldier.

You got as far as taking a deep breath and opening your mouth to speak before the Handler turned his dead-eye stare on you, shaking his head once sharply. “No. Not you. Him.”

You lowered your gaze and shut your mouth, willing the other to speak. If he didn’t the Handler would know beyond a shadow of a doubt something was wrong.

“Mission report, now,” Handler Pierce ordered again. You felt cold sweat running down your neck when he didn’t answer again.

The Handler took a few steps forward, his gait menacing and controlled in a way that made you want to look away. He carried himself in a way that promised of pain when disobeyed. He bent over and stared at the Soldier, whose eyes didn’t so much as flicker his way. The agents shifted nervously. They didn’t like that Handler Pierce was so close to the other Soldier.

[Originally posted by sxy-seabass](https://tmblr.co/Z86FNf2F160R1)

The slap echoed around the chamber, sharp and high. It whipped the Soldier’s head to the side, but from the lack of any other reaction it might not have happened at all.

You took a step forward, but suddenly eight guns were all pointed unwaveringly at your face.

Pierce’s cold eyes flicked to you, assessing, then away again as though he didn’t even consider you a threat.

Your head was warring with itself.

_Can’t hurt the Handler.  
_

_Have to protect other Soldier._

_Pierce is most important._

_The other Soldier is most important, too._

Except he wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to be just another weapon for Hydra or the KGB to use at their pleasure.

But the voice in the back of your mind wouldn’t stop saying it.

_Most important. Other Soldier is the most important. Special. Protect. Soldier is partner. Soldier protects. He was your most important. **Yours.**_

You made yourself stay still and willed the other Soldier to give the report. Maybe Handler would be too busy with Project Insight to order you to be wiped. If he just gave the report, everything might go back to normal.

But then the Soldier did something worse than staying silent, and you felt your body run cold with fear.

“The man on the bridge,” the other Soldier said, finally turning to look at Handler Pierce. His expression was confused and vulnerable and more open than you’d ever seen it. Childlike, almost. “Who was he?” the Soldier asked quietly, blue eyes shifting as his mind worked through his turbulent thoughts.

The Handler’s eyes were cold and calculating when he answered. “You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”

The Soldier looked conflicted and you prayed he would just stop talking. You hadn’t seen the blond man on the earlier assignment, but you’d read about him in the other Soldier’s report. Today was your first encounter with him face-to-face. He was a nearly unparalleled soldier, to be sure, but nothing more. Just a target to be eliminated.

The other Soldier stared at Pierce for a moment, slightly slack-jawed, before he spoke again. “I knew him,” he said quietly. His breath ghosted his messy hair and for some reason he almost looked ready to cry.

Pierce pulled the stool over, sat down in front of the Soldier and let out a sigh. The Soldier looked lost in thought until Pierce spoke again. His blue eyes flicked back up to the Handler, his brow crinkled in distress.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind,” he said slowly. “You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time,” he said, voice calm and low. The Soldier swayed in the chair, his eyes darting to and fro and he practically chewed on the words in his mouth. “Society’s a tipping point between order and chaos. We’re gonna give it a push. But if you don’t do your part, I can’t do mine.” The Soldier looked away from Handler Pierce and if you weren’t mistaken, he looked almost guilty. Definitely conflicted. “And Hydra can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.”

There was a pause and the Soldier couldn’t look at Handler Pierce as he spoke, “But I knew him.”

Pierce leaned back and sighed, his eyes flicking around to you, the machines, the other Soldier, considering. He pressed his lips together in disappointment and stood and you knew at once the other Soldier’s fate was sealed. Yours, however, was still up in the air.

“Prep him,” Handler Pierce ordered the scientists. You didn’t miss the way the Soldier’s eyes misted over for a moment, or the way his bottom lip very nearly trembled.

“He’s… been out of cryofreeze too long,” one of two lead scientists said nervously. You weren’t sure if he was more afraid of the two of you or of Handler Pierce with the way he was eyeing the ginger man.

Handler’s face was cold and indifferent. “Then wipe him and start over.” One look at the other Soldier’s face told you he was as upset as he was resigned. The blond man had stirred something long buried in his mind, but one thing was clear: he was a danger to himself like this. He was also very upset. The blond man was important to him… which meant he was important to you, too. One of you had to remember.

“What about the other one?” the scientist asked, eyeing you warily.

You made your face a blank mask as Handler’s eyes washed over you. He stared at you for a long moment, long enough for your skin to crawl, before he turned to the scientist and asked, “Did she display any erratic behavior? Anything like his’?”

“No, sir,” the scientist answered quickly with the shake of his head. “She managed to calm him when he nearly lost control, but that was it. There have been reports of that in the past.”

Pierce’s eyes returned to you, coldly assessing. You willed yourself to breathe evenly. You didn’t know why, but it was important that you remembered the blond man. Remembered because the other Soldier would forget. “No, leave her.” You bit back a sigh of relief. “Her mind is too valuable to us and I don’t want to risk harming it any more than necessary.”

It sat wrong in your gut to know that they thought of the other Soldier’s mind as lesser than yours. Made you angry. You didn’t let any of that show. Didn’t even breathe out a sigh of relief. You simply stood stock-still as the scientists walked past you and shoved him roughly back against the chair. It was clear he’d given up fighting; he went willingly, his eyes cold and empty again.

With nearly a sense of determination he bit down onto the bite guard they shoved into his mouth, but the stubborn set of his jaw vanished the moment the arm restraints clicked to life and wrapped around his bicep and forearms. His lungs pumped like bellows as adrenaline coursed through his veins. The hum of the machine warming up nearly sent you into a blind panic, but Pierce’s eyes were on you. You knew he was looking for any sign of weakness, for any excuse to put you on the chair too, so you gave him none.

You barely registered Pierce turning his back on the two of you. Only registered his passing when the door to the vault slammed shut, though your eyes didn’t leave the other Soldier.

His screams tore through your mind as though you were the one in the chair and not him. You knew those screams. Knew them nearly better than your own.

You froze as memories flashed before your mind, fragmented, disjointed, confusing.

_Soft blanket, warm body, cold night, quiet house._

_Dark night, hot blood, sharp claws, pink blossoms._

_Bright smile, golden hair, skinny knees, stubborn chin._

_Dead deer, moldy clothes, cramped cottage, brittle ice.  
_

_Matte lipstick, high heels, brown hair, quick tongue._

_Excited crowds, hot pavement, two shots, one kill._

_Red hair, olive eyes, sharp mind, slim shoulders.  
_

_Stained floor, burning metal, endless needles, black hood._

_Short hair, stormy eyes, golden ring, navy coat._

Your gaze flew to the other Soldier, whose screams still filled your ears. Most of the scientists were content to vacate the room while the machine did its work. They didn’t see the way you stared at the other Soldier as though you were truly seeing him for the first time. Your mind was a scattered mess, present clipping together with the past. One moment he had long hair and a metal arm and the next he had short brown waves, a blue pea coat, and two flesh arms.

_Most important. Other Soldier is the most important. Special. Protect. Soldier is partner. Soldier protects. He was your most important. **Yours.**_

_**Your Bucky.  
** _

Even as the thought crossed your mind it slipped through your fingers like water. The man on the bridge had said that word. You didn’t know what it meant. It hadn’t had meaning then and it barely had it now. Trying to gather your thoughts felt like trying to trap smoke with a net.

Only four things stuck in your mind as the other Soldier’s screams rattled around in your head.

1) You were a weapon.  
2) The man beside you was your _everything._  
3) Your loyalties would, always and forevermore, lay with him.  
4) You would protect him to your dying breath.

One of the scientists came in, turned the machine off, and read the other Soldier’s words. The other Soldier’s voice was colorless, the way it always was after a wipe.

_“Ready to comply.”_

The scientist nodded, seemingly pleased with the work the machine had done. “Standby for orders.” The other Soldier made no indication of hearing him, but he didn’t get up or do anything else, either.

The scientist turned to you, his gaze all too trusting. In his mind, you were the perfect weapon, incapable of questioning orders. “Finish his repairs and plug yourself in to recharge the cells you lost earlier.”

You nodded crisply and sat down beside him again, trying to hide your relief. “Understood,” you said clinically. Going to him while the machine was going or before you had permission would have drawn undue attention. They’d make you forget the important things. You _had to_ remember the important things.

The scientist turned and left the room, leaving you with only the few guards and the other Soldier.

His eyes were dead, his mind in tatters. He was the perfect weapon again. He would follow Pierce’s orders to the letter, even if it killed him.

You would not let that happen.

You set the power cables into the small holes at the base of your spine, wincing as the cells on your back thrummed to life, and picked up your tools again. 

You fixed the cybernetics in his arm, though you didn’t know how you knew what went where and what needed welding and what needed to be replaced. Time passed like molasses, though you knew hardly any time had gone by at all. The other Soldier hadn’t looked at you once, not even when you snuck a gentle caress from his shoulder to his neck to his cheek. Not so much as a flicker of recognition when you stood in front of him.

It did not matter. He was your special one. You would protect him, even if you were too broken to think right. You would remember the important things.

[Originally posted by natpekis](https://tmblr.co/ZN7jgt26QMRpr)

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hydra’s determined to set Project: Insight into action. Handler Pierce has sent you and the other Soldier strategically to ensure that happens. However, some things can’t be accounted for or predicted to matter how much one prepares. Especially in affairs of the heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), violence, guns, blood, death, particularly brutal bloody and deserved death  
> A/N: There’s no Bucky in this chapter. Sorry about that. If I’m being honest, we might not see him for a little bit. We’ll see.

[Originally posted by marvelheroes](https://tmblr.co/Zh5eWm1mtsTvW)

Morning came, as it always does, and with it the news of the escape of Target: Steven Grant Rogers, Target: Natalia Alianovna Romanoff, and Accomplice: Samuel Thomas Wilson from Hydra custody. 

It meant another day out of cryofreeze. Another day without being wiped. 

The reprieve was hampered slightly by the fact that they kept you and the other Soldier separated. He was sent to keep and eye on the helicarriers while you were assigned to defend Handler Pierce. His normal guard led him and the council members up to his office where they’d make pretty speeches and posture as all politicians did.

You watched it all unfold from the hidden alcove on the side of the room. You could see out but, according to Handler Pierce, no one would be able to see in. It was hidden with cloaking technology which meant there wasn’t a physical barrier between you and the rest of the room. You couldn’t help but feel claustrophobic anyway. 

“I know the road hasn’t exactly been smooth,” Pierce was saying to the council members. You tried to use your backscatter to search for weapons, but the cloaking tech scrambled it so you ended up relying on your normal vision. From what you could tell, none of the members were packing any weapons, but normal human vision was easily fooled, even if it was enhanced to 20/5. “And I know some of you would have gladly kicked me out of the car along the way,” he said, going for a touch of humor and levity. He turned to face the screen behind him, looking up at it with a touch of pride. “Finally, we’re here, and the world should be grateful,” he said, raising his glass to the other four. 

He was a split second away from taking a sip when a voice rang out in the room, commanding and confident. 

“Attention all SHIELD Agents. This is Steve Rogers.” 

You tensed in your hidden spot, a wave of unease flowing through you. You hadn’t heard the target speak beyond a few pained grunts, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you knew what he sounded like before this moment. 

“You’ve heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it’s time to tell the truth. SHIELD is not what we thought it was. It’s been taken over by Hydra. Alexander Pierce is their leader.” You watched as Pierce stalked around the table in the middle of the room, a tilt of his eyebrow the only indication he gave of the target’s words and of the council member’s accusing looks. He didn’t give the signal or give you an order so you stayed still, your attention captured by the target’s voice. 

“The STRIKE and Insight crew are Hydra as well. I don’t know how many more, but I know they’re in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want. Absolute control. They shot Nick Fury. And it won’t end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, Hydra will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them. I know I’m asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it’s a price I’m willing to pay. And if I’m the only one, then so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not.”

The loudspeaker clicked off. The room was so quiet for a second that the dropping of a pin would have sounded like a bomb going off.

“You smug son of a bitch,” councilman Rockwell growled. His staunch, militaristic demeanor called to memories long buried. You blamed the sudden mental distress on Steven Grant Rogers. Whatever he said had effected you adversely.  

Agent Rollins and two other goons entered the room and formed a loose semi-circle around the council members. Councilman Singh looked expectantly at them and tipped his glass towards Pierce, who stood smugly with his arms crossed against his chest. “What are you waiting for?” he asked expectantly. “Arrest him,” he demanded. 

All he got in response was Rollin’s pistol pointed directly at his chest. The other council members shifted uneasily, quickly reading the situation. 

“I guess I’ve got the floor,” Pierce said, eyeing the others challengingly. 

You watched as the guards corralled the other council members into a loose circle, guns drawn and gazes trained on the unarmed captives. Your mind, however, was drifting. 

It wasn’t the words that the man had said that stuck, it was his voice itself. It made you feel like the other Soldier’s voice did. Safe. It was trustworthy. You didn’t hesitate to follow its orders, knowing its owner would never lead you astray.

But it _was_ wrong. It was Steven Grant Rogers’ voice. He was the enemy. He was your target. He was an enemy of Hydra and Hydra was all that mattered.

No, the other Soldier mattered. That was one of the important things. The things you had to remember.

But Hydra hurt the other Soldier. Hurt you, too. Things that hurt the other Soldier were bad and- 

The sound of explosions outside the window drew your attention from that dangerous line of thought. You hadn’t even realized how close you were to questioning your Handler until that moment. 

Peirce was watching the helicarriers rise slowly into the air outside, his phone gripped loosely in his hand as he watched the guns try to blast Samuel Thomas Wilson out of the sky. 

Suddenly, he turned from the window and walk towards the other council members, though he stayed a cautious distance away. “Let me ask you a question. What if Pakistan marched into Mumbai tomorrow?” he asked, picking up one of the glasses of champagne. He walked towards councilman Singh and you tensed, ready to spring into action if Pierce called for it. “And you knew that they were gonna drag your daughters into a soccer stadium for execution.” He offered Singh the glass and the councilman took it after a brief, hesitant pause. “And you could just stop it. With the flick of a switch.” Singh eyed Pierce as he spoke and Pierce turned to look at the others. The question may have been for Singh, but he posed it to the others as well. “Would you? Wouldn’t you all?” he asked, turning to look at each of them rapidly. They shifted, glancing between each other and Pierce. 

Singh lifted his chin and stared down his nose at Pierce. “Not if it was your switch,” he said, then tossed the flute of champagne onto the cold marble floor. The tinkering of the shattering glass sounded almost merry. 

Pierce smiled. It wasn’t a thing of humor or joy, but a mocking smile that nearly made your flinch. You watched as Rollins pulled out his extra pistol and handed it to Pierce. You knew what happened next. 

Or at least, you thought you did. What you hadn’t been expecting was for Councilwoman Hawley to raise her leg and slam her foot down to the side of the knee of the closest agent. He went down like a bag of bricks and a half second later she’d disarmed Pierce and thrown a shock disk at the other agent. She threw the pistol at Hawley and hit him right in the windpipe and he dropped, too. He was up a split second after she disabled the second agent, only to make it two steps have and his head slammed into the table, knocking him into unconsciousness or possibly killing him. 

She raised the pistol and aimed it directly at Pierce, who straightened and eyed her warily. Her fingertip went to the side of her head and you watched, confused, as her face shifted. “I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was altered, electronic, fluctuating just like her features. She wiped a hand over her face and pulled away some sort of veil, like a snake shedding its skin. What was left underneath was one Natalia Alianovna Romanoff. She tugged her wig off, revealing her bright red hair, and stared defiantly down the gun at Pierce. “Did I step on your moment?” 

Pierce looked shocked for a moment, but his shoulders relaxed and he laughed. “You’re good, you know. Very good. I had no idea it was you,” he said, taking a nonchalant sip from his champagne flute. 

Natalia Alianovna Romanoff tilted her head to side, smirk pulling her lips up at the corners. “Thank you. Fooling sleezebags is a passion of mine. Have to say, though, I don’t see what’s so funny.” 

Pierce smiled and set his glass down on the table. The way he moved gave you a clear shot from your hideyhole to Natalia Alianovna Romanoff. “I’ve no doubt that whoever’s been keeping track of everything and feeding information to you has told you the Winter Soldier has appeared on the field. Likely putting a stop to the Captain’s little plan?” he asked, leaning casually against the table. He eyed her shrewdly then, his smirk turning into something darker and more menacing. He raised his hand up level to his face and stared down the gun Natalia was holding, not looking phased in the slightest. 

She eyed him tensely, not sure what game he was playing at. She seemed hesitant to kill him so she must still need him for something. You tensed in your alcove, muscles coiled tight in anticipation. 

He chuckled like he was in on a joke she wasn’t. “Then surely you’ve noticed a piece missing from the field?” He snapped his fingers once, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room.

You rushed forward from your spot before the sound had finished echoing through the room, passing through the cloaking field and taking everyone in the room except Pierce by surprise. 

Natalia Alianovna Romanoff was, of course, the first to recover. Her pistol whipped around and she fired at you until her gaze focused on exactly what (or more accurately, _who_ ) was racing toward her at a blinding speed. 

The other senators were dead before their bodies hit the ground. Smoke drifted up through their mouths and any second now the scent of scalded flesh would permeate the air. 

Natalia Alianovna Romanoff tossed the empty pistol aside and immediately dropped in a defense stance, her olive eyes trained on you as you closed in on her. 

You charged your hands and let your fists fly at her in a lightning-quick barrage. She dodged most of them but eventually you landed a hit. A wave of dread rolled through you unbidden and you barely had time to register it, much less try to understand _why_ it had happened, before you realized your electric touch had done nothing to her. 

She grabbed your fist and you set a wave of electricity through the wiring on your skin, but once again, she didn’t so much as twitch. She must have some tech you didn’t know about.

“Please, Mashenka. Listen to me!” she pleaded, eyes wide and chest heaving from the adrenaline racing through her veins. Her shoulder almost definitely wasn’t completely healed yet and you wondered briefly if her stitches had reopened. 

Then you realized you shouldn’t care.

With a growl you wrenched your hand from her grasp and set to a different strategy: goring her with your taloned feet. 

She wasn’t able to block your legs like she could your punches. Your legs would simply break her bones. Every few seconds your heel jets would turn on, filling the room with their low roar. 

“This isn’t you, (Y/N)!” she yelled, dodging out of the way of a particularly deadly leg sweep. When you froze at the sound of that name she looked at you uncertainly, her body still tense and ready to fight. “That’s your name! You recognize it, don’t you? Steve told me all about you and Bucky!” she said, green eyes bright, her tone pleading.

_Bucky._ You knew that word. You heard the other Soldier say it to Steven Grant Rogers. It made you remember things yesterday. The important things. It was an important word. You couldn’t remember why. It made you think of the Soldier, so it had to be important.

“Asset!” Pierce called sharply, snapping you back into the moment. 

Mission. You had a mission. This woman was your mission. You had to protect Pierce. 

With a growl you returned to bombarding Natalia with punches and kicks that would have killed a less capable person within a second. “Don’t listen to him, (Y/N)! Mashenka! I don’t want to hurt you! I want to help you!” she panted between dodges and blocks. “He’s the one who hurt you! You and Bucky! He hurt Yashenka!” she said forcefully, as though she could will the words and meaning to your damaged mind by determination alone. 

The odd thing? _It worked._

You froze mid-strike, your foot inches from her temple. Her eyes were wide and afraid, more white than green. Sweat was running freely down her face and a small red spot was peeking through her blue suit top. Her stitches had reopened.

“It’s me, Mashenka. Natalia. You and Yashenka trained me. You remember, don’t you? Watching the sunsets together? Eating meals in the gym? I don’t want to hurt you. Neither of you. Please let me help you, (Y/N).”

Pierce shifted behind you but you didn’t dare take your eyes off the woman in front of you. She was dangerous. When he spoke you could tell he was unsettled. “As touching as this little display has been, I think we’re done here,” he said quietly. You heard the safety of the gun click off but you didn’t even flinch. “Stand aside, Asset,” he said coldly.

Natalia made no notice of Pierce. “Do you remember the last thing you said to me, Mashenka?” Natalia asked, eyes searching yours. There was a fire in them that you knew so well. You knew _her_ so well. You could read everything on her face like a book. _Why_ could you do that? “You told me to escape. That I would regret staying. You told me to _run_ ,” Natalia said, voice full of emotion. “I was weak then. Scared and confused. Because of it you got hurt. I’m telling you, now. Run, (Y/N). Don’t let Hydra or the KGB control you anymore. Get Yashenka- your Bucky- and run before-”

The sound of the gun going off startled you from your daze. The bullet grazed Natalia’s side, sending blood out in a fine spray around you. She cried out in pain and her hand flew to her side.

You whirled and closed the distance between you and Pierce in a single stride. You leapt into the air and landed heavily on his shoulders, your claws digging into the flesh there, and he collapsed under your weight. 

You yanked the gun out of his hand and threw it to the other side of the room. You vaguely heard it clatter to the floor, but your attention was focused on the man before you. He’d hit his head relatively hard in the fall, but he was still conscious and staring up at you, blinking as though he couldn’t focus on your face. You pinned him with your feet and he let out a cry of agony as your talons dug even deeper into the meat of his shoulders. 

Your hand sparked menacingly as you pulled your fist back and charged it to full capacity. Pierce’s eyes widened in fear. You left it fall and-

“Wait!” 

Your hand froze barely a few inches from his face, your fist practically quivering with energy. 

Natalia appeared in your line of vision but she stayed just out of reach. “We need him! If you kill him a lot of people are going to die!” Natalia said quickly. “Mashenka, please,” she said, grimacing as she clutched at her side. 

Finally, you looked up at her, wincing as the energy in your fist dissipated. She must have felt the change in the air because she gave you a small, tentative smile. 

“Can you hold him there? I have something I have to do,” she said quietly and slowly, as though speaking to a wounded animal. 

You didn’t react at all, but she gave you another small smile anyway and moved to the podium near the wall, which was actually a computer with a holographic screen. 

You watched from your spot above Pierce, who was watching in a sort of stupor as Natalia typed away at the computer. You watched the numbers and code flashed by in a blur, your mind keeping up with it in a detached sort of way. 

“What are you doing?” Pierce asked, his words slightly slurred. He had perhaps hit his head harder than you’d originally believed.

“Dumping all of this data onto the internet,” she said matter-of-factly. From what you could see, that was definitely the case. “Soon, everyone will know every dirty secret Hydra has ever tried to hide.” 

“And SHIELD’s,” Pierce said, smirking. “If you do this none of your past is gonna remain hidden.” Her fingers slowed down for a spit second at that, but she continued typing anyway. “Are you sure you’re ready for the world to see you as you really are?” he asked, staring up at Natalia. You clenched your talons and he let out a pained groan that made Natalia smile viciously.

“Are _you?_ ” she said simply. 

Pierce was either in too much pain or too proud to respond to that, so he glared up at you instead. “I demand you let me up this instant, Asset. Eliminate the target immediately,” he hissed. 

You looked up at Natalia, eyes cold and face expressionless. “Does he need to be able to speak?”

She glanced up at you, smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

That got Pierce to look sharply up at Natalia. What he saw on the screen behind her, though, gave him pause. “Disabling the encryption is an executive order. It takes two alpha level members.” 

Natasha turned her cool eyes on him. “Don’t worry. Company’s coming.” 

Your heads all turned at the same time, following the sound of whirling helicopter blades. 

Director Nicholas J. Fury stepped out of the black chopper, his arm still in a sling and looking a little worse for the wear. You tensed above Pierce, your brain warring with itself. 

He was a target. He was supposed to be dead. 

But Hydra had told you that you’d accomplished your mission. He was no longer your mission. 

It was a loophole. A small one, but that, along with Natalia’s murmured and nearly pleading “Mashenka,” allowed you to hold yourself back from attacking him. 

He opened the glass door with his good hand and stalked inside, his eye surveying the scene before him with disbelief. 

“What the fuck is this, Agent Romanoff,” he asked, gesturing to the dead or incapacitated Hydra agents, fried council members, and you, pinning Pierce to the floor with your talons. 

Pierce stared up at him from his spot on the floor. “Didja get my flowers?” he asked, sarcastic and snarky even in this situation. 

In response, Fury only scowled at the man. “Is _that_ gonna be a problem?” Fury asked Natalia, his finger pointed directly at you. You bristled, but Natalia simply shook her head. 

“Don’t think so,” was her sparkling vote of confidence.

“I’m glad you’re here, Nick,” Pierce said, as though he wasn’t stuck like a pincushion. 

“Really?” Fury asked, walking slowly towards the three of you. “’Cause I thought _you_ had me killed.” 

Pierce didn’t look cowed at all. “You know how the game works,” he said quickly, smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Then why make me head of SHIELD?” Fury asked, regarding the prone man accusingly. 

“Because you were the best,” Pierce said as though it was obvious. With your recent run-ins with the man, you were inclined to agree. He was a hard man to kill. “And the most ruthless person I ever met.”

Fury’s voice was low and dangerous when he spoke. “I did what I did to _protect_ people.” 

“Our enemies are your enemies, Nick. Disorder. War. It’s just a matter of time until a dirty bomb goes off in Moscow or an EMP fries Chicago. Diplomacy? Holding action. A band-aid,” he said dismissively. How he was still conscious was beyond you. “And you know where I learned that. Bogotá.” Fury’s face changed at that, surprise and disbelief mingling with hatred. “You didn’t ask. You just did what had to be done. I can bring order to the lives of 7 billion people by sacrificing 20 million. It’s the next step if-”

He cried out as you pulled one of your feet’s talons out and shoved it into the meat of his thigh. The heel talon went deep enough that you heard it clang against the floor on the other side. 

_Like Hydra brought order to my life!?_ you wanted to scream. The words hung unspoken in the air, but you had a feeling both Natalia and Fury heard them loud and clear. 

“I don’t think the lady agrees,” Fury said, staring down at Pierce who was wincing as blood began pouring freely out of his wounds. “Get his ass up,” Fury said, glowering at the man under your feet. 

When you simply glared at the command and didn’t move, he let out a long sigh, glanced at Natalia, and held his hands up as though to say he meant no harm. “Pretty please,” he said, gritting the words out as though they caused him pain. They touch of sarcasm was welcome. Hydra didn’t employ humor when talking to you.

You looked at Natalia who nodded slowly at you. You glanced back at Fury, looking for any signs of deceit, before you slowly retracted your claws and stepped off of Pierce. He was too weak to stand by himself so you hauled him to his feet. 

“Here, Mashenka,” Natalia said quietly as she pointed to a square on the clear holographic wall. You half-carried, half-dragged Pierce to the space in front of it. 

The man had the audacity and, somehow, the strength to look over at Fury and give him a stubborn look as though he was still in control of the situation. “What? You don’t think we wiped your clearance from the system?” 

Fury was so done with Pierce’s posturing that he started speaking over the man halfway through his sentence. “I know you erased my password. Probably deleted my retinal scan, too. But if you wanna stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary-” he pulled up his eye patch, revealing a heavily scarred eye socket and a scarred over eyeball, “-you need to keep both. Eyes. Open.” Fury nodded his head towards Pierce’s retinal scanner and you shoved him roughly forward, holding him in place as the scanner did its work. Fury moved to his side and held his scarred eye up to the scanner.

“Alpha level confirmed. Encryption code accepted. Safeguards removed,” the detached robotic voice informed them. Pierce was looking at Fury with a hint of surprise but also a great deal of hatred. 

You released the sad excuse for a human being and let him fall to the ground. He was even paler than usual now, his blood running down his shoulders and legs in a grim stream. There was a clear line of blood from the spot on the floor where you’d pinned him to where he laid now. 

“Do you still need him?” you asked Natalia, voice raspy. 

Natalia shrugged and looked at Fury, who stared down at the man with distaste. “We could probably get some useful information out of him, but-”

You raised your foot and brought it down in a deadly arc, slicing through flesh and bone with ease. Pierce let out a blood-curdling scream as you broke ribs in half and tore through the soft flesh of his stomach. 

You knelt down low to his face, your visage twisted into a terrible glower as you pulled him up by the tatters of his suit. He gave a feeble groan, but he was fading fast. He managed to look up at you.

“You will never hurt him again,” you hissed. You used the last of your charges and reached forward, planting your hand directly in the center of his face. He convulsed mightily beneath you as you fried his brain the same way Hydra had fried yours for the last seventy years. 

You weren’t sure how, but you knew there was no fear in his eyes. Until his very last moment he believed he was in the right. 

You stood slowly, mind racing. Pierce was dead. You killed him. You killed your Handler. That was bad and-

Wait, no. You didn’t need a Handler. Handlers were the bad things. They hurt the other Soldier. 

Bucky. 

They hurt Bucky. 

You looked up and saw both Natalia and Fury eyeing you warily. 

SHIELD. They worked for SHIELD. SHIELD opposed Hydra, but it had also let it grow inside its organization if the things Steve said were to be believed.

_Steve never lies._

You weren’t sure where the thought came from, but you knew it was true. 

SHIELD couldn’t be trusted. Couldn’t trust anyone. Not Natalia. Definitely not yourself.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” Natalia asked, already sounding resigned. 

Your gaze fell to her and you gave her a single terse nod. “Can’t let them hurt him. It’s one of the important things,” you said, gaze flitting around uneasily. It was hard to explain the important things. You knew they probably wouldn’t understand.

“Hold on just a damn minute,” Fury said, drawing the attention of you and Natalia. “Who the _hell_ are you?” 

You walked over to the windows and eyed the mess in the sky. The helicarriers had begun firing on each other and for a split second your stomach swooped with dread. The other Soldier was on one of those, more than likely. 

But it was the other Soldier. If anyone could survive that, it would be him. 

Maybe Steve, too, if they hadn’t killed each other. 

The thought made you sick.

You turned away from the window and looked at Fury, head tilting to the side as you considered your answer to his question.

Natalia said your name was (Y/N). She also called you Mashenka. Hydra called you Asset and Winter Soldier and Soldat, but those weren’t right. 

The only thing that came to mind that felt like it fit was the thing the other Soldier called you sometimes when none of the guards were around and no one could overhear him but you. 

_Мой Мир_. My World.

You felt your mouth tug up at the corner. The expression- a small smirk- felt wrong on your face. Unnatural. Like it didn’t belong. 

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Then you bashed out the window with your foot, gave Natalia a small wave goodbye, and threw yourself backwards out of the building


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington D.C. is left reeling after the events of CA:TWS, but you don’t have time to stop and stare. The love of your life is still missing and it’s possible your best friend is dead along with him. If you have anything to say about it, neither of those thing will ever come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), blood, violence, theft (so much theft jfc)  
> A/N: I lied. There’s Bucky in this chapter.

You ducked into the nearest corner shop you could find. The young woman at the front counter had her eyes glued to the screen behind her, her mouth agape as she watched the helicarriers sink into the Potomac… or, in the second one’s case, into the Triskelion. 

According to the reporter, no explanation had been given yet. Because no one had any reports of Steve or Bucky, you assumed they were still duking it out on the last helicarrier that was slowly falling towards the river. Its repulsor turbines were failing from the damage sustained when the carriers began firing on each other a short time earlier.

The poor clerk didn’t notice you throw a novelty bottle opener at the security camera, destroying its screen without so much as glancing at it. Satisfied you wouldn’t be recorded, you grabbed the least offensive clothing you could find (seriously, why did everything have I ❤️ DC written all over it?) along with a handful of lighters and ducked into the questionably sanitary bathroom in the back. You tossed your uniform into the trash and scrubbed your face of leftover blood from the fight. 

The clothing was woefully flimsy against your skin and the jeans were tight enough to occasionally catch on your leg plates, but you made do. The few pulse bombs you had left got shoved in your back pockets because the damn jeans didn’t have front pockets. You threw the handful of lighters into the bin and sparked them aflame, wincing as the giant fireball began eating up the black leather and flexible carbon polymer. 

You were out the door a split second before the smoke alarm went off. That, at least, had caught the clerk’s attention. She was obviously panicked, which you couldn’t exactly blame her for. Giant airships were falling from the sky mere blocks from her. You tugged a pair of shoes from the rack and slipped them on. While she was busy mishandling the fire extinguisher in the bathroom you grabbed one of the gaudy pink backpacks from the wall and shoved it full of a shirt, pair of pants, and shoes big enough to fit the Soldier. 

With one last wince backwards you left the store and made a beeline for the Potomac. 

* * *

You pulled your “borrowed” motorbike to a halt at the edge of the river and activated backscatter, searching for _anything_. Any sign of Steve or Bucky. If it was Steve you’d make sure he was alive and if it was Bucky…

Well, it depended on what state you found him in. 

It came as a wave of relief when you saw movement a little farther upstream. 

Bucky was dragging Steve from the Potomac. 

Even from this distance, you could see Steve was alive, if breathing weakly. 

Bucky had saved Steve from a watery grave. Bucky hadn’t killed him. He’d broken at least some of Hydra’s programming.

You raced forward on the bike, watching as the Soldier tensed as he heard you approach. They were hidden relatively well by the bushes, but the leaves meant little to your backscatter.

You screeched to a halt and stopped long enough to kick the stand up before you were crashing through the bushes, completely ignoring the branches as they scratched against your arms and face. 

Bucky whirled to face you, gun drawn and clutched tightly in his left hand. His right arm was clutched carefully to his chest. He had the look of a wild animal about him, wounded and ready to strike. 

But then you smiled at him, tentative and hopeful, and his hand dropped to his side. His gaze was painfully open and wondering as he stared at you, a dozen emotions flashing across his face.

“(Y/N)?” he whispered, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. 

Until that exact moment, you hadn’t been sure what you’d find when you approached him. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest as you nodded, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes.

“Yeah, Buck. Yeah, it’s me,” you said, voice strangled as you attempted to contain your emotions. 

But when he closed the distance between you in a few short strides and wrapped his arms around you, you couldn’t help the sob that escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him. 

He shushed you gently and pulled back just enough so he could tilt his head down and capture your lips with his. Your tears tasted salty but Bucky didn’t even seem to notice. As far as you could tell, the only thing that existed in that moment was you. His lips were as soft as you remembered and your tongues tangled together in a well-practiced but long forgotten dance. 

You broke away even though it nearly killed you to do so. 

“We have to go, Buck. Is Steve okay?” you asked, glancing to the unconscious blond on the bank a few yards/meters away. 

Bucky only had eyes for you, his bright blue orbs searching your face as though you were a thing of wonder. It made your heart throb and it took every ounce of your willpower not to fall back into his touch. “He’s okay, he’s taken worse,” he said. His arm slid down your side and you shivered as the cold metal rubbed against your thin jacket. 

“I brought a change of clothes. Switch out of your uniform while I jury rig a beacon for Natalia and Wilson. Don’t wanna leave him here by himself,” you said, shouldering off the bright pink backpack. It wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, but it didn’t need to be at the moment. Most people had their focus on the Triskelion and the helicarriers turning into modern art on the opposite riverbank. 

You resisted the urge to watch him change and instead set to work dismantling the communication device you found on Steve. It had likely been attached to a secure line, but the damage from his fight with Bucky and the river hadn’t done it any favors in terms of functionality. 

Still, you’d yet to meet a piece of technology you couldn’t fix. This case was no different and by the time Bucky was joining you, looking a little ridiculous in high top shoes, baggy jeans, and the most unflattering long t-shirt you’d ever had the displeasure of looking at with your own two eyes (they didn’t exactly have a large selection. It was summer, after all), you’d repaired it to working condition

He helped you up from your spot next to Steve and you took it gratefully even as you eyed his right arm in concern. 

“He dislocate it?” you asked, nodding your head towards the arm in question.

Bucky shook his head. “Broke it.” 

You frowned. That would make everything harder. 

“Nearly broke my leg, too,” he said sullenly, glaring down at his friend. “Damn punk.” 

You nearly cracked a smile at that. It sounded right coming from his mouth, like a term of endearment or a nickname rather than an insult. However, you had more pressing issues to worry about than long-buried memories. “We have to go. Now. That beacon’s set to go off in two minutes and we don’t want to be anywhere near it when it activates.”

You wrapped your arm around his waist and threw his good arm over your shoulder. The walk to the motorcycle was short but Bucky still stumbled once or twice along the way. The fact that he managed to dress himself in his state, much less pull Steve from the river, was impressive. You hopped on the bike first and waited for him to get settled behind you. The bike was still on so you tilted it upright and kicked the stand up and, just like that, you were off. 

“There’s one other issue,” you said over the dull roar of wind rushing past you. You weren’t going that fast, eager to avoid drawing any attention and keeping a close eye out of cameras you wanted to avoid. You needed to find a place to bunker down, and fast. 

“What?” Bucky asked, his metal arm wrapped securely around your waist. From the way he tensed every few moments you knew his arm and leg were bothering him more than he’d let on earlier. 

“Our prosthetics. They have built-in trackers. We need to get somewhere secure, preferably with tools, so I can remove them while Hydra is still scrambling. If we wait too long they’ll track us, I’m sure of it.” 

“Damnit,” Bucky muttered. You could tell he was trying to keep his eyes peeled for danger, but any place near here would be dangerous, still crawling with Hydra and SHIELD (which were, for your intents and purposes, the same thing: enemies). You needed to get out of the city, and fast.

“We’re going for a ride, sweetheart. Can you hold out for a while?” you asked, throwing a worried glance over your shoulder. 

Bucky set his jaw stubbornly and nodded. 

“Let me know if I need to stop,” you said, concern furrowing your brow. 

Bucky’s eyes only blazed with determination. “You won’t have to.” He squeezed you gently and placed a kiss between your shoulder blades that had you practically melting back into his arms. 

“Stubborn old man.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

You drove north through the city then west as soon as you were far enough up the river to avoid the worst of the traffic and mayhem. 

You kept going until it was starting to get dark out and you were running low on gas. When you had barely an eighth of a tank left you pulled into the lot of an old, run-down auto shop. The roll-down doors had holes in the small windows and graffiti covered nearly every inch of the yellowed glass out front.

You pulled around back and barely a second after you killed the engine Bucky hopped off the bike and walked to the door. A quick twist with his metal hand broke the chain keeping the door locked. It swung open with a rusty creak that had you wincing and thankful that there wasn’t anything around for a few hundred feet. 

The two of you slipped into the garage and you were surprised to see most of the tools were still around. Whoever owned this place obviously didn’t care much about the worth of the things still inside it. You likely would only need the tools stashed in your legs, but it was nice to have the options.

“Me or you first, Doll?” Bucky asked, glancing back at you as he opened the door to the small office overlooking the shop. 

“You. If they come for us I can get away. You can’t, not in your state. If they can track you in the condition you’re in right now you’ll be caught,” you said, gently pushing him towards the couch. You grabbed the rickety chair from behind the messy dust-covered desk and yanked it towards the couch where Bucky had already sat. You sneezed as a cloud of dust flew into the air, disturbed by Bucky’s less than graceful flop onto the cushions. 

“Trackers first, then we’ll set your arm.” You flicked your eyes to backscatter and eyed his arm, nodding in approval of what you saw. “It’s healing correctly, but we’ll splint it just to make sure you don’t mess it up.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Got it. Trackers now,” he said, shoving his left arm out to you. You crossed your left leg over your knee then took his arm in your lap. Your leg panels pulled back at the touch of your fingertips and you pulled out your tools, giving Bucky one last glance before you set to work on his arm. 

* * *

An hour later two trackers lay hidden in the walls of the building. They would lead Hydra on a goose chase to this place and give you and the Soldier more time to escape. 

“As soon as I splint this we have to move again. They’ll be coming here as soon as they regroup. I’d like to not be here when they arrive. They know we’ve gone rogue and they’ll bring everything they have to recapture us and-”

Bucky cut off your words by leaning up and kissing you softly on the lips. To your dismay a small whine of happiness escaped your lips as your heart fluttered in your chest. Bucky leaned back enough to be able to look you in the eyes, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the auto shop’s office. His metal fingers tangled themselves in your hair and scratched gently against your scalp. You closed your eyes at the feeling and some of the tension left your shoulders. 

“It’s going to be okay, (Y/N). We’re together again,” he whispered as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. 

You gave him a warm smile that you only half felt. “You’re right, Buck,” you murmured, fighting back tears as you leaned forward and sealed your mouth to his in a soft kiss that had him sighing against your lips. 

You couldn’t tell him. Not yet. Not here. 

You knew how he’d react if you told him you were leaving and you couldn’t risk leaving him here by himself. 

* * *

Bucky was reclining lazily in the passenger seat of an old sedan whose paint was so faded the original color couldn’t be determined. The interior wasn’t much better; peeling leather and chipped wood.

“Remember when you taught Stevie how to steal a car?” he asked quietly, letting his head loll to the side so he could look at you. 

You frowned, heart tugging painfully. “No.” It hurt to admit, but most of your memories hadn’t returned. They were still reduced to flashes that left you with headaches and more questions than answers. 

Bucky reached out placed his metal fingers over your hand on the gear shift which would have annoyed you if you weren’t going a consistent speed down a seemingly abandoned highway. You expected him to drop the topic, so it came as a surprise when he kept talking. “It came back when I looked at ya just now. It was Germany, I think. Jacques’ cover got blown and we had to get out of town before they surrounded us. You were on base for the mission. Can’t remember why. You talked Steve through how to hotwire a car… which would have gone faster but the other guys, myself included, thought they could do it faster than ‘im so we all crowded around it and nearly got killed for it. Escaped by the skin of our teeth with Monty and Dum Dum swearing in the back with the sheep and pigs. I think one of the sheep tried to eat Monty’s beret.” By the time he finished he sounded almost amused, his mouth quirked upward in a ghost of a smile. 

“I… don’t remember,” you said quietly, eyes trained on the road. It was dark out- nearly pitch black- and you were using a combination of your backscatter and enhanced vision to drive without headlights in order to avoid detection. Only the greenish glow off the CD receiver plugged into the dash gave away the distressed look on your face. 

Bucky leaned over slowly and placed a light kiss to your cheek. You liked the way his beard scratched gently across your skin. “It’s okay, Doll. We don’t have to remember everything all at once. Hell, we don’t have to remember everything ever. What’s important is that we’re together. That we have a chance,” he said soothingly. 

You bit your lip and nodded, not willing to burst his bubble. Not yet. 

* * *

Three days after the Triskelion you were halfway across the country. You’d gone up through different states then back down towards the southern states, then back up towards Canada, working west the whole time. You’d been careful to avoid detection and Bucky was finally healed. 

It was time. 

You were sitting in your shitty motel room, watching the timer tick down on the microwave. The smell of hot pockets was unfairly tantalizing to your nearly-starving self. The sound of the door opening immediately drew your attention and you had a gun pointed at the door before the knob had turned even a fourth of the way. 

Bucky stepped through the door and stepped quickly inside, single eyebrow raised at the gun. “You have backscatter vision. You couldn’t have just checked who it was?” he asked as he set the black duffle bag onto the bed. It was filled with cash judging by its blocky, dense weight. 

[Originally posted by thosekidswhohuntmonsters](https://tmblr.co/ZyVV5h2PsdrcL)

“I knew it was you. No one else is that quiet… except maybe Natalia,” you added as an afterthought. 

Bucky shrugged and pulled the still-scalding hot pockets from the microwave with his metal hand. “We trained her well. Why the gun, though?”

“I like guns. You’ve rubbed off on me.” You caught the hot pocket he tossed at you with your foot and glared at him as cheese began dropping down your toe spike. He merely chuckled and you fought the urge to throw it back at him. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at you and you felt heated embarrassment rush to your cheeks as you thought about your words. “Not like _that_ , you lech! Did the heist go well?” you asked, gingerly removing the hot food from your foot. 

Bucky scoffed. “Skeleton crew. No real resistance. Did you make some headway with the tech?” he asked, nodding his head to your impressive (if not a little cobbled together) setup. 

“Made a new piece. Can’t quite get it to work, though. Could use a second pair of eyes,” you said, holding up a small rectangular object. 

He held his right hand up as he munched away at his hot pocket. You tossed it to him and he caught it without even looking up from the bag in front of him. His hot pocket was hanging hilariously from his mouth and he rummaged through the bag with his other hand. 

“What’s it s’posed do?” he asked, finally looking at it curiously. 

You hit the button in the remote on your hand and were already halfway to him before he began dropping from the huge electrical surge you sent through his body. It would be enough to knock him out for a short time, but not enough to hurt him in any significant way. 

You carefully lowered him onto the bed not covered in weapons and money, frown creasing your brow. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m so, so sorry,” you whispered, brushing the hair from his face. “You’ll wake up soon, I promise. I set up defenses so no one’s going to get to you while you’re asleep, but I knew you’d try and stop me if I left while you were awake.” Your fingers traced the slight furrow in his brow, present now even while he slept. “I remembered more than I told you,” you murmured, tears spilling over as you stared down at his prone form. “I know how many times we were captured by Hydra and the KGB. How many times we broke their control only to fall under again by horrid twists of fate.

“I’m not one for superstition, Sweetheart. But the one thing all those times have in common is that… we were always together. Each and every time. We may be each other’s strength, but we’re also each other’s weaknesses. Hydra and the KGB know how we think. How we work. They know we travel together, that we never stray too far from the other. They always find us, Buck. But I’m done letting my selfishness put you in danger. We’re better off by ourselves, Baby. Even if-” 

You fought back a sob and stood from the bed suddenly, knowing you’d cave and stay if you spent another second looking at him. He was your everything. Your world. Your happiness. Your most important one.

Your Star. 

And you’d give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant he’d never be hurt by his tormentors again. 

You didn’t tell him any of that, though. Not in any way he’d remember or that mattered. 

Instead, you packed your tech up, watching as it condensed in on itself until it fit into two briefcases. You took a small amount of cash but left all the weapons and a few select pieces of tech that he couldn’t use to track you. 

You made it as far as a step away from the door before you froze. You dropped the cases and walked back to his side, heart hammering in your chest. It felt like you were being ripped in two all over again. 

You leaned down and placed a chaste, loving kiss to his forehead. “This isn’t goodbye, Buck,” you whispered against his skin. “I’m going to wipe Hydra off the map, and then I’ll find you again. I promise. I just hope…” you blinked and a tear dropped onto his forehead. “I just hope you can forgive me one day.”

You pulled the nano mask out of your pocket. It had taken you some time to unlock the technology- it had been sitting in your possession since you stole it from Natalia the day SHIELD fell- but you’d finally uploaded a new identity. Walking around as councilwoman Hawley would have been just a bit conspicuous. You pulled it on over your face, trying your best to keep still as the nonobots conformed to your skin then molded themselves to imitate the uploaded appearance. They even covered your eyes, hiding the usual glow of your synthetic white-blue irises. 

The woman who walked out the door of that motel room looked nothing like the woman who had walked in. 

* * *

**Undisclosed Location, United States of America - A few months later**

[Originally posted by scipunk](https://tmblr.co/Zx2Ele2TzVcOt)

The room wasn’t dark, but not a single light in the ceiling was on. An entire wall of computer screens cast the room in a ghostly light, the single inhabitant a specter in the gloom. The screens constantly scrolled through different information. One of them was playing reruns of old TV shows and another was constantly flicking through news stations from all over the world. Names and faces and symbols and dates flashes across the screens too quickly for the human eye to follow. A record player in the corner spun a record and Count Basie and his band filled the room with smooth jazz. The person, however, wasn’t looking at any of it. Her eyes were on the project in front of her and her face was twisted in concentration as she finagled a particularly delicate circuit into place.

You let out a small exclamation of victory and nearly jumped out of your skin when one of your notifications went off. The small drone you’d been working on hummed to life, its small blue light in the center of its carapace bright in the room. It hovered in place, held aloft by the small repulsor jet on its sides and at its base. Howard had been dreaming about this tech all the way back in the 40′s, but his son Tony had brought it to life in the recent past. It hadn’t been too horribly difficult to reverse engineer. It had taken you a whole day to work it out, a testament to Tony’s genius. 

You spun in your chair and pushed yourself towards your computers (the Wonder Wall, you liked to call it). The nano skin on your legs let you grip the floor better than you’d been able to in 70 years. You waved the other information and video feeds out of the way until the data findings took up most of the screen. 

Uploading, decrypting, and analyzing all the data Natalia had dumped onto the internet had taken you a small eternity to finish. The original data brought pockets of Hydra resistance to your attention but, as was the case with Hydra, knocking out once base only scattered them to the next point. More often than not sacking a base brought new tech into play that gave you more questions than answers. 

Perhaps most disturbing of all were the clear signs that SHIELD was still operating. No matter what Natalia had insinuated, no matter the whispers you heard from the press about what Steve had said, it was still up and kicking. You’d done a little bit of probing to determine if they were a threat, but they seemed to be the real deal. Protecting humanity and all that heroic shit.

What was hilarious, though, was the fact that there were two separate factions that seemed to think of the other as the enemy. That little gem would keep them occupied and hopefully off your tail for a bit longer.

You had Hydra bases to take down, heads of the beast to kill.

Something precious to find.

The data search, however, had turned up nothing. You were met with dead ends at every turn. Not a single digital file thus far had led you to where you needed to go. You needed to search a more traditional way.

The files you needed were old. Likely predated SHIELD. Hard copies only.

And you only knew one person who you could trust that also had the access and knowledge you needed. 

You waved the report out of the way and pulled up new sites and programs. Within two minutes you had a ticket to D.C. on a private jet.


	8. Chapter 8

You ignored the politely proffered hand of the flight attendant as you walked down the stairs of the jet and onto the tarmac. The attendant shifted nervously but you were already walking past him to the white Porsche Boxter waiting for you not a hundred feet away.

“Is everything to your liking, Miss Walton?” the young man hovering next to the car asked, practically sweating through his suit. He held the keys out for you and took them wordlessly and got in the car.

“Have all of my bags been moved into the trunk?” you asked, staring at him over the top of your sunglasses.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said quickly with a nervous nod of his head.

You stared at him for a second as you turned on the car then pulled out your phone. “What’s your name, son?” you asked disinterestedly, tapping away at your phone.

“Uh, Marcus Jose,” he said, so nervous that he gulped audibly.

With a few more taps of your phone a lump sum from Miss Walton’s bank accounts was transferred. It was such a small amount of money she probably wouldn’t ever notice, not after you’d taken care to hide your tracks.

“Congratulations, Marcus. Your college debts have all been paid. Job well done,” you said blandly. You pulled smoothly out of your spot, admiring the way the car shifted underneath you, leaving Marcus a gaping, flabbergasted mess in your wake.

_German engineering,_ you mused sardonically.

Your face mask shifted to one of the face imprints you had saved. A beautiful young woman who looked nothing like you except in that her skin tone matched yours.

Luckily, Ronald Reagan airport wasn’t far at all from Peggy’s care home. Even with the traffic, you made it there in less than thirty minutes.

You checked the security feeds around the Avenger’s base in upstate New York. Steve’s motorcycle was still in the garage and from what you could tell he was still on base, so there was no chance of him visiting Peggy today. Satisfied, you shoved the high-tech phone back into your pocket and glided inside, wide smile on your face as you took on the mannerisms of one Cynthia Rose Beauregarde. Her grandfather was in the same care home as Peggy. She was prone to random visits that wouldn’t alert the staff to anything amiss. She often brought pastries for the nurses and caregivers along with a fruit and veggie platter for the more health-conscious staff.

This was why you tottered in the sliding doors with two boxes in your arms, one full of fancy cupcakes and the other a ridiculous fruit arrangement that looked more like home decor than actual food.

The future was weird.

“Oh, Cynthia! Let me help you with those!” the man at the front desk said, quickly hopping out of his seat to rush over to you.

You made a show of nearly dropping them, but the man slid in front of you just in time to catch the edible arrangement and you renewed your grip on the cupcake box. “Thank you so much, Eric! I’m _so_ clumsy,” you lamented. Your voice was altered by the nano mask and it sounded odd to your ears. Eric, however, didn’t notice a thing.

“J-Just glad I could save the fruit from the horrible fate of the floor,” he said with a kind smile. From the way his gaze lingered you could tell he had a crush on Cynthia. You wondered if she knew.

“You’re a life saver, Eric,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him. He quickly looked away, embarrassed, and you managed to look bashful. “Is my grandpa awake?” you asked, following the man over to place the box of goodies on the counter. A few of the other workers had already made their way over and had begun picking at the fruit. The moment you stepped away from the cupcake box one of them nudged the lid open, took one look at the baked goods inside, and thanked you profusely before taking one and retreating deeper into the complex.

“Yeah, he’s awake for now. We’re taking him out in a bit soon but he’ll be tired after that, so you came at a good time,” he said, biting a piece of star-shaped pineapple off one of the wood skewers.

You signed into the book with your pen. The ink would fade after an hour or so, leaving no trace of your visit beyond the camera footage… which you’d wipe with a virus before you left.

“Alright! I’ll head up now then,” you said, giving Eric one last flirty smile that had him smiling shyly as you walked away.

Instead of going to Beauregarde senior’s room, you went to Peggy’s. You knew her schedule thanks to the records the care home kept on their computers and, sure enough, she was laying in bed watching TV when you approached. You could hear the muted sounds through the door.

You pressed the button on your watch surreptitiously and watched out of the corner of your eye as the video cameras in the hall stuttered their slow rotation for a moment before resuming their movement. For the next half hour they’d circulate the same footage thanks to the virus you’d implanted in their security system. You could have made it last longer, but then you ran the risk of the guards noticing. They didn’t skimp on Peggy’s safety and you knew it was only her stubbornness that kept them from posting honest to goodness live guards by the door.

You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders before knocking on the door. A quiet but steady “come in,” made your heart constrict painfully, but you tried to push the feeling away.

You pulled the door open and popped your head in. Cynthia’s smiling face made a matching expression appear on Peggy’s lined visage. You knew what she looked like, you’d seen enough photos to know. Still, seeing your strong, independent, and determined friend reduced to this was nearly more than you could handle.

“Thia! Are you visiting your grandfather today?” Peggy asked, beaming up at you.

You pretended to pout. “I was, but he’s asleep! I figured I’d see if you’re up for a visitor, seeing as grandpa won’t be up to talking for a little while yet,” you said sweetly.

Peggy chuckled and nodded. “I’m having a good day and I always enjoy talking to you, love,” she said, beckoning you into her room.

The fact that this had been so easy alarmed you, but you pushed it to the back of your mind. You’d keep a better eye on her from now on. Her family and what was left of SHIELD wasn’t doing a good enough job.

You took a seat on the chair next to her bed. Within a moment of sitting down, she was frowning at you. “What’s wrong? You look like you have a cartoon storm cloud hanging over your head which is quite unlike you,” she said. Even though cataracts clouded her eyes they were still sharp.

You gave her a melancholy smile. “How much do you remember about the 30′s and 40′s?” you asked, leaning back into the chair, forcing yourself to not sit ramrod straight.

Peggy frowned and relaxed back into her pillows, considering. “A fair bit. It depends on the day. Even without the Alzheimer’s it was a long time ago. I’m afraid I can’t claim a eidetic memory like a certain star spangled man,” she said wryly.

The mention of Steve had you smiling sadly. You kept an eye on him and Natalia, but you hadn’t seen him since that day on the overpass. Being in D.C. again made the memories feel especially fresh.

“How about the spring of ‘40?” you asked quietly, glancing up at her through your lashes.

She stiffened at that and stared down at you. “I’m sorry, but that was a very difficult time and I don’t like to talk about it,” Peggy said rigidly, still eyeing you warily.

You gave her an apologetic smile. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, Pegs. I really regretted never being able to meet Michael. You always talked about him so fondly… after I put a few drinks into you,” you said quietly.

Peggy looked outright alarmed now as she stared down at you.

You pressed a button on the mask and it shimmered and morphed until it impersonated you… before your cybernetic implants and scarring. You slipped the wig off, revealing your evenly-cut hair that was nearly the same length it was in the 40′s.

Peggy stared at you for a long moment, hardly breathing. You were about to remind her to breathe when she spoke. “(Y/N)…?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Hi, Pegs,” you said sadly with a single nod. “I know this is a lot to take in and I think the only reason you’re not freaking out more right now is ‘cause Stevie told you me and Buck are still alive, right?” you asked in your real voice, giving her a small smile.

She only stared down at you, her eyes narrowed. “How do I know it’s you? With that _thing_ on your face?” she asked challengingly. It was a testament to her iron will and fire-hardened nerve that she sounded only slightly alarmed.

Your mouth quirked up into a grimace. “Because the face underneath isn’t the same one you remember, Peggy. I thought seeing me like this would make everything easier. I’ll take it off if you want, but I don’t think you’ll like what you see,” you said placatingly.

Peggy stared at you for a moment longer before she leaned back into her pillows. “Tell me something only you would know,” she said, her brown eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“I grew up an orphan on the streets of New York. They tried to put me in the system but I kept running away. I used to dress like a boy so shop owners would give me jobs. Any money I got went towards food. Any free time I had I spent in the libraries. The one in Manhattan was so big I sometimes managed to find a place to hide and sleep there, though I eventually got too big and they started finding me when I was around thirteen.

“I still remember the smell of old grape juice from my favorite hiding spot. I’d spilled it on the carpet and no matter how hard I’d tried to clean it up it reeked of it in the summer heat.

“I met you in 1940, soon after the death of your brother Michael. You told me about him once when you were really, really drunk after we rescued Erskine from Schmidt. I was your getaway driver, by the way. You were working undercover as a maid and I worked as a gardener. I was trying to sell my designs to the U.S. for the war, but they weren’t biting. Never said it to my face but it was clear they didn’t even consider looking at a woman’s schematics. You took one look at ‘em though and brought me in to work with you. It’s how I met Howard.” You stopped and frowned at the name, guilt coursing through your veins. “He used to flirt with you nonstop. It drove me up a wall. Between you and his car, he never focused on his work.”

You looked up at her, self-deprecating smile lining your face. “It’s hard to remember. I have to write things down when I remember them or they slip away. Some things still come naturally, though. Mechanics, mostly. My hands know where to put wires and plating and how to type lines of code, but my brain has trouble remembering my own name.”

Peggy’s face softened slightly. “I know a bit about that, at least,” she said quietly, her tone gentle.

You felt your shoulders relax and you nearly let out a laugh. She wasn’t mad. She believed you. “I suppose you do, don’t you?” you said, smiling sadly up at her. She knew better than most what it was like to be trapped in your own mind. You reached forward slowly, giving Peggy plenty of time to pull away or tell you to stop, but she met you halfway and took your hand gently in her frail one.

“Please let me see you, (Y/N),” she said quietly. Her hand squeezed yours and you were surprised by the strength she still possessed (though, you supposed, you really shouldn’t have been).

You looked away self-consciously. “Are you sure, Pegs? I’m not like Stevie. The years weren’t as kind to me,” you said quietly. It was easier to hide behind a mask, even if you yearned to have Peggy see the real you. It was frightening and exhilarating and you didn’t know what you’d do if she was repulsed by you. You looked like one of those cybernetic monsters from Bucky’s old sci-fi pulp novels.

Peggy just rolled her eyes in a way that had memories springing up in your mind. You blinked them away as Peggy spoke up, “Yes, I’m sure. I told Steve he was dramatic, but really it’s all of you, isn’t it?” she asked playfully.

You put on a smile that you weren’t sure you felt and slowly, oh so slowly, reached up and turned the nano skin and mask off. The flickered once then turned off. You pulled the mask off but left the skin on. Your sun dress did little to hide all that Hydra had done to you.

Now that it was off it showed your metal legs, the wire embedded in your skin, the power cells along your spine, your metal fingers, your glowing eyes, and the extensive but nearly-invisible scarring that covered most of your body.

You weren’t sure exactly what you were expecting, but Peggy bursting into tears wasn’t it.

“Oh, (Y/N),” she breathed. “I’m so sorry, love. This is all my fault,” she whispered, taking your face between hers. Her fingertips trailed lightly over the faded scars on your cheeks. “We had no idea you and Bucky had survived. Had no reason to believe we-”

You shook your head, sardonic smile on your face. “I didn’t survive, Pegs. Bucky did, but just barely. Not that any of you could have expected that. I never told you everything that happened in Azzano, after all. Neither of us did. How could you have known?” you asked, voice cracking halfway through. Seeing your best friend cry over you made you feel as wretched as it did happy. 

“What?” Peggy asked, taken aback. “But you- You’re alive and-”

You were shaking your head slowly. “I died, Pegs.” Upon seeing the look on her face you held your free hand up and waved away her concern. “I’m not a ghost or nothin’, promise. Hydra… Zola brought me back. Probably at great expense and time. Bucky was alive the whole time. Watched ‘em do it,” you explained quietly.

You were surprised when she tugged you up. You went willingly into her arms and began crying as she hugged you to her chest. Her paper-thin skin rubbed softly against yours and you thought again at how frail she’d gotten over the years. It broke your heart to think of everything you’d missed in her life. Her kids, grandkids, wedding. It hurt to know that it probably would have been Steve as the groom, Bucky as the best man, and you as the maid of honor if the three of you hadn’t “died.” She founded SHIELD. Maybe if the three of you had lived Hydra would have stayed good and dead and SHIELD (in all its former glory) would still be around today to protect the world.

But ifs did no favors to your mental health so you pushed them all away.

Peggy released you after a minute and dabbed delicately at the tears staining her cheeks. You sat back down, but kept her closer hand in yours.

“I came here for a reason, Pegs. I’m getting better slowly, but I wouldn’t have put you in danger by coming unless it was important,” you said quietly. “I have real bad days sometimes and even snap with no warning. That’s not even covering the KGB and Hydra, which I know would love to get their hands on me.”

Peggy gave your hand a squeeze and looked at you seriously. “I should have known better than to think this was just a friendly visit,” she said, though her playful tone softened the blow a bit.

You winced anyway and looked down at your lap. “I’m sorry, Pegs. I didn’t want to put you in danger. ‘Sides, I know Stevie visits you a lot. He’s better company than me, anyway.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “You haven’t heard his jokes,” she jested. She sobered and tilted your chin up so she could look you in the eye. “Now, what’s this visit really about, (Y/N)?”

You gave her a thankful smile even though you still felt guilty. “Back when we fell… after Zola brought me back and I saw Bucky for the first time… he said something to us. I know Zola was a rat, but I don’t think he was lying to us this time. It rang true and no matter how hard I search I can’t find anything about it and-”

“(Y/N),” Peggy prodded gently but firmly, cutting your rambling off quite effectively.

You slumped in your chair and gave her the most pathetic look to ever grace your face. “I was pregnant, Peggy. When I fell,” you whispered. It was one of the only times in nearly 70 years that you’d admitted it out loud and doing so ripped a new hole through your heart.

Peggy’s face fell and immediately began sparkling with tears. “Oh, (Y/N)…” she whispered, shocked.

You nodded and barreled onward, knowing your voice would fail if you stopped and thought about it too hard. “I know Zola took what was left of… of my _baby_ … and did research on it. I searched all the files Natalia- sorry, Natasha, Black Widow- dropped onto the internet, but I can’t find mention of it anywhere. I think it might have been part of the things seized by you and the SSR back in the day. The files recording the intake were all hard copies that never got transferred to digital. It’s the only explanation I have. Hydra was too meticulous not to keep track of something that… that valuable,” you said weakly.

Peggy was already lost in thought, though. Trying to work through the problem presented to her. You could tell she was troubled by everything that had come out of your mouth for the past fifteen minutes, but this was what you needed right now. Focus. Help. Not platitudes that could never heal the scar on your soul.

“I kept nearly everything in a base here in the U.S. Practically everything that I and the Howling Commandos seized after you, Steve, and Bucky disappeared. If it was still mostly disused it would have been fine, but…” she trailed off, looking troubled.

“But…?” you prompted, anxiety twisting low in your gut.

Peggy finally looked back at you, brows pulled together apprehensively. “But I’ve recently given its location over to the new SHIELD to use as a base of operations. Fury asked for it a fair bit before the whole debacle with Project Insight happened,” she said apologetically as though she could have possibly expected this turn of events.

“I’ll figure it out, Peggy. I just… I can’t leave it unfinished, you know? Never knowing what happened. What they did with… with it…” you said, frown darkening your face. “Please,” you pleaded, looking up at her beseechingly.

She frowned and squeezed your hand. She studied your face closely for a moment before she seemed to find what she was looking for and nodded slowly. “I’ll give you the coordinates on two conditions,” she said sternly. The tone reminded you of the indomitable woman you knew so well with dark brown hair and bright red matte lipstick, not the frail woman in front of you.

“Whatever you want, Peggy,” you said quickly. You were so close you could taste it. Answers. After all this time, you would get answers.

“One: you mustn’t harm any of the SHIELD agents there. They’re good people, not Hydra. They’re trying to rebuild the organization that I helped lead to ruin.”

You grinned at her. “Pretty sure you have me, Zola, Pierce, and Bucky to thank for that one, actually,” you jabbed weakly.

Peggy glared at you, though, and you quickly shut your mouth.

“Second: You have to reach out to Steve,” she said gently, but you were already shaking your head.

“Can’t do that one, Peggy,” you said immediately.

“And why not?” she asked defiantly, her brown eyes accusing.

You blew out a long breath. “There are a lot of reasons, Peggy. I’m not what he remembers, never will be. Not really. You’ve had 70 years to move past the three of us, but it’s only been a few years for Steve. He has new friends that care about him, a fulfilling job saving the earth from aliens and terrorist organizations. I’ll just keep him stuck in the past and, if anyone deserves to move forward and be happy, it’s Stevie. Most importantly, I have things I need to do… and he’s an absolutely horrible spy,” you said wryly, earning a weak smile from Peggy.

“I won’t fight you on that last one, but… when this is all over, please go to him. You and Bucky both.” You frowned at the mention of Bucky. Hiding from him had been more difficult than hiding from all the governments of the world, the KGB, SHIELD, and Hydra combined. “He won’t care about all the other things. He may have new people to care about and a place to live, but he’s never going to stop searching. Not now that he knows you’re both alive,” she said firmly.

You let your shoulders slump in exhaustion. “It’s never going to be over, Peggy. I’m always going to be on the run. I’m always going to have to hide. There are people out there who want my head, and they’re not wrong to.” You ignored Peggy’s noises of protest and pressed on. “I’m not sullying Stevie’s name by trying to get close to him after everything I’ve done. I’m not that selfish,” you said with a sad smile.

Peggy frowned and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Steve told me about it. He read the files. The things they made you do… those actions are not who you are. Don’t let the work of evil men change who you know yourself to be.”

You looked up at Peggy and bit back all the self-deprecating remarks you knew she had answers for. Peggy always seemed to have the answers to everything.

You shook your head slowly. “I don’t make any promises, Pegs. But… if I figure out a way to get my head on straight and finish all my business… then I’ll consider it, but that’s the best I can do,” you said sadly.

Peggy seemed to sense that was the best she was going to get out of you because she nodded her assent. “Fine.”

You smiled tentatively at her. “Thank you, Peggy,” you said sincerely.

Peggy rolled her eyes and motioned for you to grab the pen and pad of paper from her bedside table. “Don’t thank me yet, (Y/N). I’m sending you into a well-defended nest of SHIELD agents. I know you’re avoiding them.”

You chuckled as you handed the paper and pen over to her. “Leave that part to me. I’m resourceful,” you said, watching as she wrote down the coordinates of the base.

“Oh, I know you are. Just… don’t make me regret this, please. I know you’re more than capable of taking down an entire base by yourself now,” she said, folding the paper in half in handing it to you.

You looked her in the eyes seriously. “You won’t Pegs. I promise. I… I don’t do that kinda thing anymore… unless it’s Hydra. But I trust you. You know these people better than I do. If you say they’re not Hydra then they have nothing to fear from me,” you said sincerely.

Peggy released the paper and you tucked it securely into your bra, earning an amused eyebrow raise from Peggy. You shrugged unrepentantly which only made her smile wider.

“I should go,” you said quietly as you rose to your feet. It immediately wiped the smile off of Peggy’s face, but she looked more resigned than upset.

“I’m not going to see you again, am I?” she asked quietly.

Her words twisted the dagger in your heart, guilt eating away at you. “Do you really think I should visit again?” you asked with a sad smile. “I’d send letters, but then there’d be physical proof of you knowing about me and… if you forget that I’m alive it’s just going to confuse you,” you said sadly, knowing firsthand what it was like to get memories back in pieces and find information that didn’t match your understanding of the world as you thought it to be.

Peggy frowned. “I’m not going to live forever, you know.” When you looked like you swallowed a lemon Peggy waved your worry away with a small laugh. “It’s true and you know it. I’m old. I lived a good, long life and have nearly no regrets, but I don’t know how much longer I have left down here. I don’t want the next time you see me to be at my funeral,” she said, voice gentle and caring. She was more worried about what that would do to your mental well being than her own health and it was humbling.

You frowned and leaned down, wrapping her tightly (but gently) in a hug. “I’ll visit again, Peggy. I promise.”

She chuckled gently and patted your cheek affectionately when you pulled back. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. God, you’d missed her so much. “One more thing before you go,” she said, suddenly. You stopped a foot away from her bed and turned back to look at her, confused.

“What?” you asked, suddenly unsure.

“I never got to give you your wedding present, you know,” she said with a smile as you shifted nervously. “And I’m still angry at you for not inviting me,” she said, though it was clear she was joking by the soft smile on her face. “Bedside table. Top left drawer,” she said, pointing to the dark oak table to her right.

You approached it warily, confusion lining your features.

The drawer was empty except for an old yellowed envelope.

You pulled it out slowly, throwing confused glances at Peggy a few times as you turned it over in your hands.

“What is it?” you asked, holding it gently as though it was made of glass. The old paper crinkled ominously in your hands and you worried that your hands, which knew nothing but violence, would somehow spontaneously destroy it.

“I’m not going to just tell you, you silly creature. You have to open it,” Peggy said with a fond smile. 

You glanced at her once more before you ripped carefully into the envelope. You tipped it to the side and carefully grabbed the papers that slid out. You placed the empty envelope onto the table and flipped through the papers, your eyes watering more and more as you went through all of them.

Tickets out of London to New York. Tickets to the 1945 Stark Expo. Tickets from New York to Hawaii. Vouchers for boat rentals and hotel reservations on the big island, all dated for 1945.

A tear dropped onto the reservation notice for snorkeling equipment and you carefully wiped it away, biting back a sob.

“I had everything planned out for after the war ended. I knew we were closing in on Schmidt and I knew once you, Steve, and the boys took him down you’d get time off. You didn’t get a real honeymoon so I made it my life’s mission to ensure my wedding present made up for it, doubly so because it was so late.” She paused and smiled sadly at you. You knew you looked wretched, eyes puffy and red from crying and mouth twisted into a grimace. “It’s a bit belated now, but better late than never, eh?” she asked, watery eyes dangerously close to spilling over.

Your arms were around her again in a flash. “Thanks, Pegs. It’s perfect. I know we’ll love it,” you breathed into the thin gown she was wearing.

“Quite right you will,” she said sternly, though you could tell she was crying again. “I worked hard to make sure that everything was perfect and I’ll not have you ruin it because you’re obsessed with your work.”

You laughed weakly at that and gave her one last gentle squeeze and kiss on the cheek before you pulled away.

“I’ll see you later, Peggy,” you said, giving her a last brave smile even as tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Of course, love,” she said with an equally brave smile and watery eyes. “Be careful, (Y/N).”

“I will be, Pegs.”

You activated the nano mask and frowned in displeasure as it conformed back into Cynthia’s face. The nano skin turned back on, once again covering your cybernetic enhancements. The wig pulled back over your hair easily. You clutched your wedding gift in your hand and marched determinedly from the room, knowing you were pressing your luck by tarrying as long as you had.

You had a lead at long last.

And a friend that loved you, scars and all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take a giant leap of faith and set things in motion that you can’t possibly predict the outcome of. All of it in the hopes to find answers that you so desperately need. Will your faith in Peggy Carter pay off, or will her well-meaning help only land you in more trouble?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), mentions of torture and death, guns  
> A/N: *Urge to write Daisy instead of Skye intensifies* I’ve actually been to Shelbyville, IN. There really is fuckall there. 10/10 do not recommend.

[Originally posted by agentsofshield](https://tmblr.co/ZlpMUs25yiBsP)

**The Playground - Undisclosed Location, North America**

“Hey, I think I got a blip on the radar.” 

Coulson, perched precariously on the edge of his desk, looked up from his tablet. Skye stood expectantly in the doorway but gave the man some space. Coulson needed space a lot of these days. His grey-and-hazel eyes focused on her in a split second, his eyebrows raised in question.

“A blip? Care to be more specific?” he asked somewhat playfully, smoothly sliding off his desk to take a few steps towards Skye. She took that as an invitation to enter his memorabilia-laden office.

“Well, it’s hard to be sure right now. I haven’t seen anyone this good in a long time and it was really hard to pinpoint how they managed to find us, much less work their way into our system, and-”

“Skye,” Coulson prompted, giving her a hard, flat stare. 

Skye shook her head once as though to clear it of her cluttered thoughts and nodded. “Right, sorry. Someone… managed to hack their way into our system. I would have noticed sooner, but with everything that’s been going on, and with Hartley- I didn’t-” she broke off with a frustrated huff. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do better.” 

Coulson, however, was more concerned with what this could mean for them, security-wise. “What did they get?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest as he shifted from one foot to the other, deep in thought. 

Skye frowned. “That’s the weird thing, sir. They didn’t access any files. No personnel records, flight records, schematics. It almost seems like they broke in just to show us that they could.”

“You’re sure?” Coulson asked, thrown for a loop. If someone was good enough to get past Skye and their cyber defenses (even while she was distracted by everything going on and they were still reeling from the fall of SHIELD a few months ago) then it didn’t make sense for this mystery person to not make good use of their skills. 

Daisy shrugged helplessly and tapped away at the tablet in her hands. “I’ve gone over our systems five times, just to be sure. They didn’t leave a trail because there _is no trail_ ,” she said, looking up at Coulson as though he might have an answer. “That’s not the weirdest part, though,” she said dubiously. 

Coulson fought the urge to groan. “How weird are we talking? Aliens weird or Trip’s pickle sandwiches weird?” 

Skye wrinkled her nose in disgust at the mention of the sandwiches. “For the record, I’d rather fight an alien than eat one of those.” 

“Duly noted,” Coulson said amicably. 

Skye sighed and flipped the tablet so Coulson could see the screen. “The hacker didn’t take anything, but they left something. _This._ ” 

On the screen was a picture of a single sticky note with the longitude and latitude coordinates of The Playground. Just below the image was a single line of script. Another set of coordinates and a single sentence. 

“’I think it’s time we had a chat’,” he read aloud, brow furrowed in confusion. 

Skye eyed him as he looked over the sticky note and the white wall it was stuck on as though it could reveal some secret clue. “What do you think, sir? Threat? Trap? … Prank?” she asked, hope seeping into her tone on the last one.

Phil tore his eyes from the screen to give Skye a small huff of laughter. “You think our luck is that good?”

Skye bit her lip and lowered the tablet. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s definitely a trap.” 

Coulson frowned as he considered. “Maybe, maybe not. But they just proved they have our coordinates. If they’re with Hydra or the U.S. Government they could have wiped what’s left of SHIELD off the map. The fact we’re still standing here and haven’t been blasted to bits makes me think this isn’t a threat. We might have a friend out there.”

Skye frowned and looked at him with a touch of disbelief. “Didn’t we just agree our luck isn’t good enough for this to be a prank? And suddenly you think it could actually be a good thing?” she asked, eyebrows raised high enough that they were hidden by her bangs.

Coulson shrugged, smiled, and went back to sitting on the edge of his desk. “I only have a handful of agents, Skye. Fewer still that are capable of field work. With Fitz out of commission I need all the friendly hands I can get,” he said, resigned.

“They could just be trying to get us out in the open. We’re not exactly defenseless down here,” Skye said, gesturing vaguely to the walls around her.

Coulson shrugged. “Maybe. But I still think it’s worth checking out. Either way, we need to know how they found our location. I can’t have us getting blasted off the map while we’re still getting back on our feet.” 

Skye sighed in defeat. “May’s not gonna like it.” A last ditch effort to get him to abort the idea before it made it any further.

Coulson only smiled though. “I’m counting on it. She’ll be the first one to see any threats coming. Might even save us all if this goes south.” 

Skye sighed and nodded. “Should I tell Mack to get the quinjet ready?” 

Coulson nodded. “I want you on this. Hunter and Trip, too. Where do those coordinates lead?” 

Skye frowned as she brought the map up on her screen. “Shelbyville, Indiana.”

* * *

**Your POV - Shelbyville, Indiana. United States of America**

The longer your message went unanswered the more you worried. Had you made a mistake by not marching into their base? Demanding the information you needed? You could probably pull it off, even without Bucky, Natalia, or Steve there for backup. When you left that present for them on their servers you were even kind enough not to snoop in their files. 

It had been horribly tempting, though.

No mention of the base had been made in any of the numerous files Natalia had dumped onto the internet. You’d triple checked, just to be sure. Peggy seemed certain the base was clean of Hydra, but it was still a big leap. You were a sitting duck. They had no way of knowing it was you behind the keyboard, but that didn’t stop you from imagining what would happen if Hydra agents marched into your safe house. 

Anyone who knew the keywords that triggered your Winter Soldier programming were probably dead… but it was still there, buried in your mind. If there was even a ghost of a chance someone could turn you back into that soulless monster, you were going to tread as carefully as possible. 

You huffed and leaned back in your chair, itching to leave your workshop. 

Then you remembered there was fuckall to do in Indiana and thanked Bucky’s lucky stars on his account not being forced to grow up here. 

With a groan you got up and stretched, freezing at the knock at the door. 

“Hey, Boss?” came the hesitant voice from the other side of the door. 

You let out a small sigh and let your shoulders sag in inch, though you kept your hand to the gun taped under your desk.

“What’s up, Austin?” you asked through the door. Austin was the kid you’d hired to man the repair shop you’d bought off an aging, disgruntled white man who’d seemed more than happy to be rid of it. Shelbyville wasn’t exactly a big town and the building was far enough from the town center that it didn’t get a lot of traffic (not that there was a lot of traffic to begin with). Austin didn’t have the money for college but his record was clean in every way, so you’d hired him without a second thought. It helped that he didn’t ask a lot of questions.

“Just got a call from a potential customer. He said he saw that you specialize in cars’n stuff. Asked to make an appointment for later today.” 

He sounded confused, but that wasn’t surprising. You technically didn’t specialize in rare cars (though you’d yet to see a piece of tech you couldn’t fix or reverse engineer) and you certainly didn’t advertise it. 

“Thanks, Austin,” you said, mulling over this new information. Could it be SHIELD? There were enough confused old people in the area that you wouldn’t be surprised if it was just a mistaken local.

“Oh, they also mention something about a computer? Said someone hacked into it or something? They were hoping you could take a look into it.” 

Your blood froze for a split second before it thawed again and you took a deep breath.

Yup, definitely SHIELD.

“Got it. I know it’s been a slow day. You can head home if you want. And don’t worry, I won’t dock your pay,” you said quietly. You didn’t want him anywhere near the shop in case this turned ugly. He’d grown on you like mold on bread. 

“You sure, Boss?” he asked, excited despite having the decency to check with you once again.

“Get out of here, asshole,” you said with mock anger, earning a delighted whoop from Austin.

“You’re the best, Boss! See you tomorrow!” he said. You could hear him trundling very, very loudly down the stairs. He was on the phone letting his friends know before he was even out the front door. You watched his progress on the hidden cameras you had set up, making sure he made it safely to his car before you turned back to your desk and began preparing for your guests.

* * *

Your scanners picked the jet up even though your cameras couldn’t see it. Cloaking tech, like with the original helicarrier SHIELD had used in the Battle for New York. Your files had said that they’d adapted it for the smaller quinjets, so this was simply confirmation. It was impossible to tell exactly how many had landed and even your backscatter imaging scanners turned up with fuzzy, inconclusive images. 

Even your normal cameras, however, could pick up the ‘62 cherry red Corvette that parked on the street outside your shop. 

What surprised you, though, was that the man who stepped out of the driver’s seat was supposed to be dead. 

A young woman stepped out of the passenger side and waited for the man to come around the car before they walked in together. Even from up in your apartment above the shop you could hear the bell tinkle merrily. On one of your screens the bay door of the hidden quinjet opened and out walked two men, each armed to the teeth. The white guy immediately began circling the premises, but the black man joined the two that had come in the Corvette. 

“Hello? We had an appointment for this afternoon?” the man called out as he glanced around the shop. The young woman picked through the various repaired objects on the nearby shelves, often stopping to eye one in disbelief. 

_Show time._

You sent two drones out, one to tail the shifty white guy and the other to keep an eye on the quinjet (or, well, where the quinjet probably was judging by where the two guys had appeared). 

You left your workshop and grabbed the tray of tea, coffee, and cookies from the kitchen island as you passed it on your way down to the shop. Your nano skin and mask hid your usual features, giving you the appearance of a random dead woman from Los Angeles. As far as the people of Shelbyville were concerned, your name was Alex Rose Jackson. 

You opened the door to the shop, instantly drawing the attention of the three people standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

“Sorry about that, I have trouble hearing the bell sometimes,” you lied easily as you placed the heavily-laden tray on the counter and sat down on the stool that Austin usually sat in from 9 to 5 every day. 

Coulson hid his thoughts behind a mild smile. “No trouble at all.” 

You smiled broadly at him. “Tea? Coffee? Maybe a cookie?” The three of them didn’t take so much as a single step towards you or the refreshments. You shrugged and poured yourself a cup of tea and munched on a chocolate chip cookie. They were probably your best batch yet, not to toot your own horn. “Suit yourselves. You’re missing out.”

Coulson frowned at you, trying to get a read on you. You tried your best to not exude danger from every pore, which wasn’t easy. You didn’t know these people and you sure as hell didn’t trust them, but if Peggy was right they were your best chance as finding what you needed. 

“My name’s Phil Coulson. This is Agent Skye and Agent Triplett,” Coulson said motioning to the agents behind him. They both inclined their heads slightly when he said their names, but otherwise kept their gazes warily on you. 

[Originally posted by crowzley](https://tmblr.co/ZO7qgq28AxJCZ)

“Forgive me if I don’t introduce myself. I don’t know if I can trust you yet. You can call me Alex for now, though. If you don’t pry about my name I won’t pry as to how you’re alive when you’re supposed to be a dead man.” That made the three of them frown and consider you with renewed curiosity and wariness. “So, about your computer problem?” You prompted, single eyebrow raised.

“The fact that you completely ignored the car outside and went straight to the mention of our system makes me believe we’re in the right place,” Coulson said calmly. Behind him, the other two were eyeing you, posture tense and focused.

You nodded amicably. “Your ability to use a map is spot on. Congratulations,” you said, throwing them a sarcastic smile. Damnit, you were being rude, weren’t you? People didn’t play nice when you were rude. “I kind of expected you to discover that sooner, though. The whole Hydra-SHIELD implosion was a few months ago now,” you said, tilting your head to the side.

Coulson frowned, his gaze clouding over for a moment, before it cleared and he gave you that mild, measured smile. “We’ve been otherwise preoccupied. I have to know, though. Why didn’t you steal any information?” he asked, looking at you as though you were a particularly interesting oddity in a museum. 

That wasn’t that far off from the truth, you supposed. 

You shrugged. “Wasn’t the point. Wanted to get your attention, but figured walking up to your front door armed to the teeth would send the wrong message. Thought it would be better to play it safe on my own turf. Gottta say, though, don’t appreciate the guy skulking around the back of my shop. You might want to tell him that if he tries to open the back door he’ll get a very literal and very deadly shock. I feel like you wouldn’t appreciate one of your agents dying.”

Coulson’s eyes hardened and the two behind him shifted uncomfortably. After a second he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. “Did you get that, Hunter?” he asked, presumably talking to the skulking man through the comms. You couldn’t hear the response but Coulson relaxed his shoulders a half inch, so whatever Hunter had said must have been an affirmative. 

“I gotta say, I’m having trouble figuring you out,” he admitted with a smile and tilt of his head. “What exactly is it that you want from us?” 

You smiled over the rim of your mug. “Information.” 

Skye frowned and finally spoke up. “You had access to all of our systems. For two entire days, unchecked. You could find anything you wanted,” she said with a tinge of uncertainty. 

You huffed a laugh. “I’ve taken a lot over the years without people’s permission. Some of it warranted, most of it not. I’d like to avoid it if I can help it,” you took a long sip of tea then tilted your head to the side. “Also, it would have been quite rude.” 

Skye looked downright confused. Coulson, for his part, looked perplexed, too. Only Triplett looked mostly unaffected, a slight furrow to his brow the only indication he gave of his muddled thoughts. His expression reminded you of Gabe and the thought made a ghost of a smile appear on your face. 

“How did you get the location to the base, anyway?” Coulson asked, trying to find his footing again.

“A friend,” you said simply, tucking into another cookie against your better judgement. 

“I’m going to need you to do better than that. If there’s a leak I need to know about it,” Coulson said sternly. 

You shrugged and leaned back against the cluttered shelves a few inches behind you. “It won’t be an issue. When they told me about it they had no idea it was actively being used. They said there was a chance, but they weren’t sure. They assumed it was still an old SSR base guarded by a skeleton crew.” 

That, however, only seemed to confuse Coulson more. “It was repurposed about a year ago, but not everyone even knows it was an old SSR base to begin with. I really insist that you reveal your source.”

You eyed him for a long moment, deliberating. Finally, “Margaret Elizabeth Carter.”

Coulson and Triplett tensed at the same and Skye recognized the name but she looked more confused than anything else. “What, like _the_ Peggy Carter?” she mumbled, obviously thinking it was a joke. 

“What did you do to her?” Coulson gritted out, already reaching for the pistol on his hip. 

“Talked to her,” you said evenly, pointedly taking a slow sip of tea. 

“You mean threatened her,” Triplett said, looking mildly murderous.

You huffed out a laugh. “Have you _met_ Peggy Carter? No one threatens her and gets away from it in one piece, even if she is an old woman now.”

Coulson, however, didn’t looked convinced. “One of our agents watches her very closely. We’d know if you visited her.” 

Your face clouded over in anger. “ _You’re_ in charge of her protection?” you asked, voice suddenly cold and hard as steel. 

“Officially it’s her family, but we guard her, too. She’s one of the founders of SHIELD, after all.”

“Your protection detail sucks,” you spat, earning frowns and confused looks from the three of them. “I snuck in without almost any work at all. If someone-” You bit off that train of thought and took a deep breath. “Do better, Agent Coulson. She’s worth more than just the secrets slowly slipping from her mind,” you said, voice low and dangerous. 

“We agree on that much,” Triplett said, hand still hovering near his gun. 

You finally turned your head to look at him fully. “You remind me of someone.” 

“I bet you say that to every guy who walks into your shop,” Triplett deadpanned. 

[Originally posted by engineeringbiochem](https://tmblr.co/Ziv3Xo1qJ8vJ-)

His dry sarcasm and the face he made when he said it reminded you so viscerally of Gabe that you could practically see the army green helmet on his head. “You related to Gabe Jones?” you heard your mouth ask.

Triplett frowned and Skye and Coulson looked between the two of you in confusion. After a brief moment, Triplett nodded. “He was my grandpa,” he admitted.

A melancholy smile graced your face. “So Gabe had kids. I’d read that, but… That’s- …that’s good,” you said quietly, searching Triplett’s face for reminders of your old friend. 

Somehow, that sealed the deal for you. If Gabe’s grandkid was with these people there was no way they were Hydra. Coulson’s not-death was certainly interesting but you weren’t exactly one to judge in that regard. There was also the fact that, according to your computers, Skye didn’t exist. Oddities, the lot of them.

“I’ll cut to the chase. I need information. Old SSR files buried in your basement. The problem is that I won’t know exactly what I need until I see it. In exchange for this information I’ll provide you with all the intelligence I have on current Hydra operations.”

Coulson regarded you even more warily than before. “Are you ex-Hydra?” he asked calmly, though you could tell from the way the three of them flinched that someone you couldn’t see had just yelled bloody murder in their ears at that question.

You smiled helplessly. “In a manner of speaking.”

Skye glared at you. “We don’t deal with Hydra.” 

“How do we even know your information will be good?” Coulson asked.

“Because I had the _privilege_ -” you spat the word like it was poison in your mouth “-of being around many, many higher ups in Hydra during my time there.” You took a deep breath to steady yourself as flashes of hell flicked behind your eyes. “I can’t risk trying to take them all out myself, or I would. I’ve done quite a bit of digging though. If you agree to this you could take down nearly everything of what’s left of Hydra,” you said, pouring yourself another cup of tea. The three of them were still staring dubiously at you, though, so your hefted out a sigh and stood slowly. The only sound in the room was the soft clink of your mug onto the counter and the breathing of the humans in the room. 

Well, here went nothing. “My intel is good. I have 70 years worth of it rattling around up here. I verified everything so your people won’t be sent on a wild goose chase. Whether they can handle taking Hydra down, though, is up to you and them, not me.” You took a deep breath and slowly, oh so slowly, reached up and pressed the off button to your nano mask. It flickered as you slowly pulled it off your face.

Immediately three guns were pulled out and pointed directly at your head. 

“My name is (Y/N) Barnes, otherwise known as the Winter Soldier. Well, one of them, anyway. I was subjected to Hydra’s experimentation for the better part of 70 years, brainwashed to kill their enemies. After the battle of the Triskelion I walked away from my best friend and the wreckage of SHIELD and Hydra. I ripped Alexander Pierce’s guts out myself. I left my husband and ran to ensure we wouldn’t be caught again even though my life isn’t worth living without him. The information in your base could give me a small scrap of peace in this horrible, fucked-up world. My information could lead you to the last heads of Hydra.” You paused and tilted your head to the side, considering. The guns were still pointed directly at you, fingers hovering on the triggers. “Although if you try to contact Steve or Natalia I’m afraid the deal is off.” 

“You’ve killed hundreds of people. Agents. _Good_ people,” Coulson said, staring at you over his gun. 

“Yes,” you conceded quietly, eyes falling to the ground. Then you looked up, chin jutted out stubbornly. “But not because I wanted to. Not because I had control over my actions. If you blame me for anything, blame me for making weapons back in World War II that killed scores of people. Do _not_ blame me for what Hydra made me do.” 

Skye’s bottom lip trembled slightly with anger. “Putting the blame on someone else. Typical Hydra,” she sneered.

You turned your icy gaze on her and she froze, coiled tightly as a spring. “Do you know what it’s like to have white hot metal shoved in your skin? To have so many drugs pumped into your veins that you go from feeling like you don’t exist on this plane of existence one second to having every cell in your body set on fire the next? To have your brain shocked over and over again until you can’t remember your name? The face of the person you love? To live with the memories of the people you killed? Hear their screams of terror in your dreams? To have phantom pains in limbs you haven’t had in seventy years? To perform surgery on your own eyes? To be trapped in your own mind and body?” you hissed venomously. When none of them spoke you turned your attention back to Coulson. “Hydra _used_ me. In the early 40′s they used me to make their weapons then, after ‘45, they turned me into a monster. They took away my free will by frying my brain every time they woke me up because they _knew_. They knew the moment they stopped I would start to remember that I was a person. A person who fought alongside Captain America and the Howling Commandos. Who helped stop two of the most horrendous people in the history of the world. They made me into a monster, but that’s not what I _want_ to be. It’s not what I _choose_ to be.”

Coulson didn’t lower his gun even a millimeter. “What do you want so badly that you’d be willing to come out of hiding?” he demanded quietly.

Just like that, all of your bluster and bravado left you like someone pulled a plug. Your gaze dropped to the floor. “Hydra took something from me,” you whispered, voice taught as you fought to keep a hold of your emotions. 

Coulson’s voice was quiet but demanding. “What did they take?” he asked, eyes searching you critically. When you didn’t answer him he asked again, more urgently. “Your legs? Eyes? What did they take, (Y/N)?” 

At the sound of your name you finally looked up. The tears spilled over and left tracks down your cheeks. “My baby,” you breathed. 

It was like all the air was sucked out of the room at once. No one moved beyond the horrified exhales of disbelief. After a second Coulson and his team finally lowered their guns as a choked sob left your lips. 

“They took what was left of my baby after I died,” you gasped around the sobs. “I _need_ to know what happened to it. _Please._ The files in your base might be the only chance I have to find out.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the belly of the beast, you find yourself in SHIELD’s secret base. What will the team make of you? Will they keep their promises and let you search for what you need?

[Originally posted by maykicksass](https://tmblr.co/Zo4iUb2UCYsiW)

They’d offered you a ride in the quinjet but you’d politely declined. They may have managed to convince you of their intentions and lack of connection with Hydra (bar an antagonistic one), but you sure as hell weren’t walking onto their jet and their base with only your stylish leather jacket period-appropriate jeans. 

That, and you had a new toy you just had to try out. 

You closed up shop and left a little note on the counter, “If I’m not back a month from now the shop is yours. I trust you to keep it up and running ‘til then. Do whatever you want with it after that. - xoxo Alex” and a small stack of legal (see: forged) papers that would sign the building over to Austin at the end of the month unless you voided them before then. 

After grabbing your portable workstation you headed to the garage attached to the side of the buildings and pressed the button to roll up the door. Out rolled out the gorgeous monstrosity you lovingly called the Batmobile. Exterior inspired by Lamborghini and Ferrari, engine of your own design (Tesla was getting close to your design’s power and efficiency, which impressed you greatly), reinforced body and windows, enough guns and explosives to level a city, advanced GPS, in-dash computer, unhackable missile guidance systems, and heated seats. 

[Originally posted by carpics](https://tmblr.co/Z2fTVr2UmrFUM)

Coulson and Skye were still outside next to the corvette when you pulled around the corner. You drove up beside them and lowered the passenger window, nearly laughing at the looks on their faces. 

“I thought you’d be into the classics,” Coulson said after a moment of staring. 

You shrugged. “Old things bring back memories. Even the ‘good’ ones are painful. A brand new car modeled after this year’s newest, most expensive cars? Now that doesn’t run the risk of me having a mental breakdown while going two hundred miles per hour down the highway,” you explained. You smirked after a second. “Gotta admit, though. That’s a pretty piece you got there. Think it can keep up?” 

Coulson’s smile was almost childlike and you had a feeling you’d just asked a question you shouldn’t have. “Oh, I think we’ll keep up just fine.” 

You watched as Coulson jammed a few buttons and a switch on the dash. In the passenger seat Skye had a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as the tires began moving. All at once the car jolted a foot upwards and stayed there, floating nearly two feet off the ground. You had to lean over to be able to see Coulson anymore. Skye winked playfully at you and Coulson gave you a single, victorious smirk before the Corvette rocketed forward, putting hundreds of feet of distance between you and them in the blink of an eye. 

You sat back in your seat and stared at the rapidly receding red dot in the distance and blew out a long sigh. “Well that’s just not fair.”

Next on the Batmobile’s upgrades: flight. 

* * *

You weren’t exactly surprised that they made it back first. Your car looked sporty but thanks to your designs it handled all terrains better and faster than nearly any car out there.

Except the flying ones, of course. 

You wondered idly if the Corvette worked over water. You’d have to ask.

You slowed down to what felt like a snail’s pace. After going 275 mph (442 kph) most of the way, just about anything under a hundred felt that way, but you’d been warned in advance about the security turrets and you didn’t feel like putting the Batmobile’s shielding to the test just yet if you could help it. You needed it intact in case you needed a quick escape. 

You pulled up to the front of the building- a nondescript brick building that you were sure went much deeper than the outside would lead you to believe- and were unsurprised to see a welcoming committee waiting for you. Perhaps even less surprising was that they looked distinctly unwelcoming. 

Coulson, Skye, Hunter, and Triplett were waiting for you, along with a lithe, dangerous-looking asian woman and large, quietly intimidating black man. You stepped out of the Batmobile and locked it with the key fob. 

“Our mechanic, Agent Mackenzie, will make sure your car is safely stored inside the base,” Coulson said kindly but firmly. You were fine with that; leaving it outside meant that it was farther away from you and that much more likely to be tampered with by outside forces. You had no doubt they’d try to pry its secrets from its beautiful body, but you sure as hell hadn’t made it easy for other people to delve into its inner workings. The last thing you needed was for your enemies to use your tech.

Again.

The new guy, Mackenzie, stepped forward. His expression was unreadable but you had a feeling he was biting back a lot of opinions about you. You didn’t blame him.

You tossed him the keys and he caught them without taking his eyes off you. Good training. Never take your eyes off the threat. 

“Take good care of the Batmobile. I designed him myself and, while I doubt you could do any serious damage to him, I’d really hate to have to redo his paint,” you said with a small smile. Mackenzie frowned, his brow wrinkling as he tried to get a read on you. Any further inspections were cut short by Coulson.

“Shall we?” he asked, motioning to the doors behind him. 

You nodded and followed him inside. The other four walked behind you and it was like an itch at the back of your neck; their stares bored into you. Having four people behind you made your skin crawl. You used backscatter to watch them. They were packing a lot of heat. 

Before you could make it past the vault-like doors, though, a short and greying man bustled out. 

“Nuh uh! Nope! You need a lanyard before you can enter!” he said forcefully. 

Coulson’s smile turned tight as the short man stepped forward and snapped a picture of your face with the tablet in his hand. You took a half step back, frowning at this sudden turn of events. Coulson glanced warily at you then at the man. “Misses Barnes, this is Agent Koenig. He, uh-”

“Keeps this base secure, which is easier said than done when you invite ex-Hydra and ex-KGB assassins onto it!” Koenig griped. The little device in his hand beeped and he pulled a small plastic passcard from it. It was a truly gaudy shade of orange and the SHIELD eagle was a reflective silver that made you want to squint to avoid the glare. He took a half step forward, then all at once seemed to remember who you were, and froze. 

Coulson stepped in before the pause could get too awkward and took it form his hands. He passed it to you and you gave all of them an uncertain look before you slipped it over your head. 

“There! All set!” Koenig said. His voice was distinctly an octave higher than it was ten seconds ago. He abruptly turned on his heel and practically ran deeper into the base. 

Coulson gave you an apologetic smile. “Well, now that that’s taken care of…” He walked forward into the base and you followed just a few steps behind. The people behind you were jumpy and you were afraid if you got too close the asian woman would shank you (if she hit your power cells you’d blow a hole in the base, so you _really_ hoped she wouldn’t be tempted). “Agent May will be with you during your time here. While you’re not accessing files we ask that you either leave the premises or stay in one of our holding cells,” he said, glancing apologetically over his shoulder. “As much as we want to help you we can’t risk-”

You held your hand up to stop his explanation. “I understand, Director Coulson. I’m dangerous. Ex-Hydra. Ex- KGB. I know if I wasn’t giving you information you wanted and needed you’d have tried to throw me in one of the cells first chance you got. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll leave if I need to sleep or anything. Small spaces and locked doors… Well, those don’t bring up pleasant memories,” you said, smile tight. 

“And you don’t trust us,” Coulson said quietly, eyes bright and calculating. 

You smiled and shrugged lazily. “Guilty.” 

“We’re not the bad guys,” Coulson said. Behind him was the lab and you had to admit, even with their somewhat limited funding, it was a nice little setup. A man with short curly blond hair was glaring daggers at you from his seat near a lit-up table at the back. He was the only one who’d looked your way for more than a second or two. The other techs were busily working away at their stations and, if you had to guess, the blond was the only one who knew your true identity besides the people following you with their hands hovering over their guns. Your babysitters were radiating a kind of nervous, murderous energy that set your teeth on edge. The blond, though. His eyes were almost the exact same grey-blue as Bucky’s. 

You couldn’t help the bitter smile that slid onto your face. “You may not be, Coulson, but SHIELD let Hydra fester inside of it for nearly seventy years.” Coulson opened his mouth to argue, but you held a hand up firmly, gaze hard. “Tell me honestly. As soon as I get what I need and hand over the information I have, will you resume the manhunt for me?”

Coulson’s stared hard at you for a moment. “Only to try and bring you in to help you,” he argued. “We have technology that-”

You laughed. 

And laughed some more. 

It was bitter. Tinny. Sounded spiteful even to your own ears. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you gasped, straightening up again. “I’m just going to pretend you didn’t say any of that. It’ll make me like you more,” you said, grinning wickedly. 

Coulson eyed you like you were a bomb about to go off. You wondered if he was right.

“Right… well, the old SSR files are downstairs. Agent May and Agent Hunter will take you down there, if you’re ready.”

You turned to look at May, who stared up at you with her hands held loosely at her side, eyes not blinking. Oh, yes. Melinda May. You’d read her file. It was a wonder you hadn’t recognized her immediately. The man, though, had no face or name you recognized. Not from SHIELD (or Hydra) before the fall, then. 

“Of course,” you inclined your head slightly to him, a small show of weakness that you hoped would put the fury-like woman at least a slight bit at ease. 

No such luck. 

“Hunter, you lead the way,” May ordered, her tone hard. She didn’t even glance at the guy.

“Aw, c’mon. Why do I have to be the one to turn my back on the deadly robot woman?” he complained. British accent. Kent, if your ears weren’t mistaken. He held himself like ex-military, but the way he talked back to May… merc. Probably a merc.

May’s gaze slid from you for a second, which was all Hunter needed to make an abrupt about-face and practically march towards the stairs.

You followed after him, an amused smile dancing on your lips. Melinda May was your kind of woman.

Too bad she probably wanted to kill you or something.

* * *

To say that you ignored May’s presence would be a falsity. It would be more accurate to say that you kept her in your line of sight and always kept a small part of your mind focused on her every move while you searched. 

Hunter, though. He got bored an hour into babysitting duty and had pulled out his phone and was currently tapping away at who knew what. He never relaxed completely but seemed content to let May stare daggers through your head while he scrolled through his phone. 

By the time the second hour rolled around and you’d read through two boxes of files, Hunter had tapped out, leaving May alone with you. You could tell she wasn’t exactly thrilled by the new development but her pride was keeping her from asking him back. 

The two of you stayed in the near-complete silence of the musty, dust-covered storage room, neither of you feeling the need to fill the silence with pointless chatter. 

When the blond man from the lab shuffled in, you paused in the middle of a paragraph and looked up. May didn’t even glance his way, but she was suddenly a hundred times more tense than a moment before (which you didn’t think was possible). 

[Originally posted by leopoldjamesfitzs](https://tmblr.co/ZIJEMy2LMLOYX)

“You shouldn’t be here, Fitz,” she said quietly but firmly.

“Leopold James Fitz. Engineer. SHIELD straight out of the Academy, graduated three years early. Gifted member of the Sci-Tech division,” your mouth listed out, unbidden by your mind. You should have recognized him earlier. You’d read enough of his work to be a fan. May’s hand drifted down towards her pistol and you shot her a small apologetic smile. “Sorry, May. I-”

“You can call me Agent May or ma’am. Not May,” she said testily. 

“Agent Fitz,” Fitz corrected you quietly, standing awkwardly in the doorway. His eyes were angry but the rest of him seemed unsure, hesitant. 

You set the fragile manila folder down on the table, its faded pictures staring up at you to reveal a gruesome tale of Hydra machinations in the late 40′s. “Not big on titles,” you explained not unkindly. “I spent the better part of seventy years being called by a title or a code name. It’s dehumanizing. Belittling. Reduces a person to less than they should be. Being respected is all well and good… so long as everyone doesn’t forget you’re a human being underneath all the pomp and circumstance. Or, in my case, pants-shitting fear and screaming,” you said with a sardonic smile. “I mean no disrespect by not using your titles. I don’t think less of either of you, nor have I forgotten whose base I’m in,” you said with as calm of a tone you could manage.

May glared at you but didn’t pull her gun on you, so you took it as a win. 

Fitz, however, didn’t seem convinced. He took a step further into the room so that he was only a few feet away from the desk you were sitting at. You could tell he was fighting the urge to pace. A few times he looked at the a place in the middle distance, but there was nothing but air there. 

“Why can you- I read- I read your- your-” 

You leaned back in your chair. This wasn’t the same man from the SHIELD file you’d memorized from Natalia’s info dump. Something was amiss. 

“You read my file?” you guessed. 

He nodded quickly, seeming both relieved by your understanding and more agitated by the direction of their conversation. 

“I’m surprised it had much in there at all. I’m guessing it was whatever Natalia and Steve could dig up on me and Bucky, right?” you asked, trying to make yourself relax and look as non-threatening as possible. You had no illusions to whether or not May would try to kill you if you threatened Fitz in any way. 

Fitz nodded quickly again. “The- the chair and the- the- the shocks. Scans of your brain and-” he broke off and looked at that middle distance again. 

“What are you seeing?” you asked shrewdly, eyes narrowing.

Fitz’s gaze snapped back to you and he opened his mouth a few times. “How did you-?” he murmured, surprised. 

You shrugged. “I hallucinate sometimes, too. Luckily for me, most of mine are fairly obviously not real. People can’t really survive with half their skull missing or their faces burnt to a crisp.” You paused and frowned. “Did I say lucky? I think I meant unlucky.” 

Fitz had gone a shade paler and you almost felt guilty. “You- You killed people. Lots of people. Good people. SHIELD agents and-”

You stared solemnly at him and nodded once. “I did.” 

“We shouldn’t be helping you!” he exploded suddenly, throwing his arms up in frustration. It took every ounce of your willpower not to flinch. 

“No, probably not,” you agreed quietly. “You know about operation Paperclip?” 

Fitz nodded and calmed down a fraction. “Nazi scientists. Recruited for- for-”

“Strategic value,” you supplied, and Fitz nodded quickly.

“The Allies thought they could- could further their own a- their goals, but-”

You smiled bitterly. “They recruited the wrong man. Armin Zola. The SSR took him in and then, once SHIELD was founded, he grew the new Hydra inside of it. It was the trust of good people that brought about all this destruction and devastation.” 

Fitz frowned deeply. “W-Why are you tellin’ us this? We already know about- about everythin’ and-” 

You leveled him with a hard stare that had May shifting in her seat. “Because you should never trust someone who’s worked for Hydra.”

Fitz gulped audibly and twitched as his gaze flitted around the room.

“Is it Jemma Simmons?” you asked quietly, remembering the file that had come directly after Fitz’s. Fitz-Simmons. Simmons-Fitz. Always together in reports. Projects. Designs. Practically inseparable. 

“Don’t say her- her-” he sputtered furiously. 

You held your hands up slowly to show you didn’t mean anything by it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

He scoffed his disbelief and you let out a wry smile. 

“Aphasia?” you asked quietly after he had a moment to calm down. He glanced up at you for a split second before his gaze fell to the floor again. “And you’re here to wonder why I seem okay,” you surmised. It was why he’d mentioned reading your file earlier. A single, terse nod, and suddenly his grey-blue eyes were on you again. You blew out a long sigh and leaned back in the rickety rolling chair they’d given you. “What happened to you?” you asked gently, hoping the question wouldn’t set him off again.

He got angry, but it wasn’t directed at you, at least not directly. “Couldn’t breathe. Hypoxia. It-” he groaned and ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Three minutes. Damaged different- different-”

“Regions of your brain,” you supplied. A nod of affirmation.

“Can’t think right. See things that aren’t- aren’t- They don’t-”

“You hallucinate. It’s a way for the brain to help cope with what happened. What’s _still_ happening,” you said quietly. Another nod and frustrated noise. “You hate that you’re different and you’re afraid you’ll never be the same again,” you murmured, giving him a soft, heartbroken smile. 

He turned his blue eyes on you and you could see the fear there. The anger. The frustration. 

You gave him what you hoped was a comforting smile. “For the record, I’m not okay. I probably never will be again. I hallucinate at least once a day, see things that aren’t there; ghosts and ghouls from your darkest, most grisly nightmares. I wake up sometimes and forget my own name. There are days where I think it’s 1943 again and I can’t work a computer. Some days I can only speak Russian. The worst days are when I forget I have cybernetic implants and limbs. I soundproofed my house so my neighbors wouldn’t call the cops anymore. There are only so many times you can get away with the excuse ‘I was watching horror movies’ before the police start getting suspicious about all the screaming. Loud noises set me so far on edge that my fingers spark with anticipation and fear. I nearly had a mental breakdown in a supermarket when someone’s car backfired outside- I get my groceries delivered now. I wake up sweating every night from the night terrors. I haven’t gotten a full night of sleep in four months.” You stopped and took a second to refocus. Fitz’s face was a cold, detached mask and you decided not to guess what he was thinking. “Luckily for you, though… you have a team of people who care about you enough to attack a world-renowned assassin if the need arose. You have access to cutting-edge medical tech and what looks like a competent team. You don’t have seventy years of brainwashing to overcome. You’re brilliant, no two ways from Sunday. The brain is an amazing thing and there’s no doubt in my mind that, if you’re patient and persistent, you’ll recover. Maybe not completely. I won’t sugarcoat it for you. It might take a long, long time. But this is the hardest part. This, right here. Having the will to go on. To slog through the sludge in your thoughts. Take the little victories and cherish them: Getting through an entire short sentence without stumbling, remembering a word that eluded you. Don’t alienate yourself from your friends and family. You shouldn’t ever have to know how hard it is to go through all this alone… not when you have such a strong support network.”

Fitz stared at you, dumbstruck. May was staring at you as though seeing you for the first time, her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she looked you up and down. 

You gave them a small, wry smile. “Remember the part where I said I wasn’t big on titles because they belittled someone’s humanity? The fact that you’re both staring at me in shock is just proof that no one can see past the code name or title to see the person underneath.”

* * *

There was some sort of emergency so they left you mostly alone. A little drone kept a resolute eye on you (it named Sleepy, which was adorable. You liked Fitz even more for naming the little things after the seven dwarves from Snow White-) and they kept the door closed more to give you privacy than anything else. It was so old and rickety you were sure it could be taken down by a single love tap from one of your legs. You knew Fitz and the mechanic- Mackenzie- were keeping an eye on you from deeper inside the base, but it was much easier to concentrate without May staring you down the whole time. 

You flipped through file after file, starting from time-stamped from the day after you fell and working you way towards the present day. You poured over every detail in the files, searching for anything that could possibly be a reference to your baby. 

You weren’t sure exactly how many hours had passed when the big guy- Mackenzie- opened the door. You nearly snorted at the oversized shotgun clutched in his hand, juxtaposed to the bottle of water and granola bar in his other hand. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you asked, tilting your head to the side curiously. 

Mackenzie frowned. “I don’t like you,” he said bluntly, not moving further into the room.

“Noted,” you said dryly, smirk dancing on your lips. At least he was upfront about it all. You’d had enough cloak and dagger to last a lifetime. 

He took a small step forward, eyes not leaving yours for a second. “But what you said to Fitz- it seems like it helped. The others… they look at him and see the guy he used to be. I’ve only ever known this one, but he’s a great guy as he is now, ‘cept he doesn’t see it like that. Made it hard for him to talk to the others. He was worried about hanging out with them. He tried to talk to them today, though, before they left for the mission. Their happiness-” he broke off and frowned, then took a step forward and placed the water bottle and granola bar on your desk. “Thanks.” He backed out of the room, still not taking his eyes off you, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“My pleasure, Mackenzie,” you said quietly as he shut the door. You were fairly sure he couldn’t hear you over the squeaking of the hinges.

* * *

A commotion outside pulled you from your piles of papers and you stood, head spinning momentarily as blood rushed to all the places it was suddenly needed. Just how long had you been sitting for? 

You took slow, careful steps towards the door, ignoring Sleepy as it whirred softly, trailing dutifully behind you. 

You followed the sound of the voices down the hall and stopped in front of a door marked VAULT D. You could just barely make out Fitz’s Scottish accent arguing with someone else inside. 

“Do- do you- do you- do you know- …what the, um-” there was a long pause and you could hear Fitz drag a shuttering breath into his lungs. “What you-” Another pause and a ragged breath. “Okay. I- You know, I have trouble with words. So, um… it’s probably best that I show you.” 

“Show me what?” you heard the other person ask calmly, almost curiously. 

“Hypoxia!” Fitz said, as though it was obvious. “Found that one. That’s what you did to me.” 

_Oh. Oh no._

You used your backscatter. One other person, behind some sort of containment field. You couldn’t be sure unless you saw him in person, but you didn’t recognize him as someone who should know the trigger words. 

You heard the air vents change and the person inside turned to look at them then back at Fitz. “Fitz?” you heard him ask, sounding just a shade panicked. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m showing you… what it’s like… when you’re deprived…” he said, sounding just as vindictive as he did scared. Suddenly, he lost the words and sounded confused. “Of, uh…” 

You opened the door and stepped soundlessly into the room, wanting to get a better idea of what exactly was going on before you showed your hand. You peeked around the corner and down the stairs and let out a sigh of relief. The man in the cell was either not Hydra or not high enough up to know _the words_. 

“Th- The oxygen. B- the brain cells. They- They react first. They die.”

You sat down at the top stair, arms propped up on your knees and hands folded neatly together. “Three minutes and brain damage is permanent,” you said loud enough for both of them to hear. 

Fitz spun around to look at you then realized there was a threat behind him. Even though the dark haired man was behind a wall, Fitz still seemed to think him enough of a threat to turn back to him. Caught between a rock and a hard place, he took a few steps back towards one of the side walls so he could keep both of you in his line of sight. 

“He the one who hurt you?” you asked, tilting your chin towards the gasping man on the cot inside the cell. 

Fitz nodded slowly, eyes darting between you,  the man, and the tablet in his hands. 

You frowned at Fitz then at the other man. “Give him back his air, Fitz,” you said quietly. 

“You- You’re on his side?” he asked, anger flaring up again. 

“He Hydra?” you asked, white-blue cybernetic eyes flicking to the man. 

“Yeah,” Fitz admitted, seemingly impervious to the sounds of the man literally suffocating just a few feet away from him. 

“Then you put two bullets in his head if you wanna kill him. One from you and one from me. But you don’t make people suffer, Fitz. That’s what _he_ would do,” you said, inclining your head towards the man. “That’s what Hydra would do.” 

Fitz stared at you for a long moment while the man inside came close to losing consciousness. Finally, he growled his frustration and anger and turned the oxygen back up. The man inside the cage gulped gratefully and his eyes began to focus again.

Right onto you.

“Fitz, do you know who that is?” the man asked, looking at you like you were the boogeyman or something. 

Fitz glared at him. “(Y/N). She- She was- her head- brainwashed. By Hydra. They- they hurt her. They hurt her for a long time.” 

The man finally seemed to recover enough to breathe without gasping loudly and heavily. “Where’s Skye?” he asked, trying to change tactics. 

“Gone. They’re all gone. After Donnie. And I should be there with them,” he said angrily, tears threatening to spill over. “But I can’t be, because of you! Because of what you did to me! I’m damaged!” he half-yelled, his voice fraught with emotion. 

The man was still gaping like a fish every few seconds as his body likely screamed for air. “Donnie- Donnie- Donnie Gill. That’s- That’s why Skye was-” he panted.

“No, I’m not- I-I don’t- I don’t, uh- I don’t answer, uh-”

“Fitz,” the man said, cutting smoothly across the blond. “Listen to me. Listen. You-” he gasped deeply. “They don’t know what they’re walking into,” he said urgently. “Hydra brainwashed him while- while he was at the Sandbox. He helped Hydra seize the facility. They used something called the Faustus technique and-”

The rest of his words faded into the background after that. You went rigid, body tensing in anger. Of course Hydra invented other ways to brainwash people. Of course you and Bucky weren’t the only ones. 

“(Y/N)?” said a slightly panicked voice, pulling out of your reverie. 

“Soldier,” said the other warily.

Your gaze lazered in on the dark haired man, a snarl ripping its way from your lips. “Call me that again and I’ll rip your dick off and feed it to you through your anus.”

Both men flinched and looked downright alarmed. 

“Fitz, time to leave the sad little man to his solitary. Your people are in danger,” you said, already standing and heading towards the door. Now was the time for action. You heard Fitz scrambling after you. “Where’s Mackenzie? Don’t tell, just show,” you said, stepping to the side of the hall so Fitz could take the lead. Agents parted like the red sea for you and Fitz. Most of them didn’t recognize you thanks to the mask, but you looked focused and deadly enough that they scattered on sight. 

Fitz ducked into the kitchen-meeting room before you, alarming Mackenzie who’d been lounging on the sofa playing Call of Duty. 

“What’s up, Turbo? Why do you look-” he caught sight of you following Fitz into the room and in a split second his shotgun was trained on your face. “What the hell are you doing up here?” he spat.

“No- not-” Fitz said, tugging the shotgun barrel down so it’d only blow a hole in your stomach instead of your face if he decided to pull the trigger. 

“Your people are in danger,” you said quickly. 

“Coulson. Get- Get Coulson on the line,” Fitz said, already tugging Mackenzie towards the mission screens on the other side of the room. “I can’t- can’t find the right words and-”

“He won’t trust me,” you finished, following closely behind the two of them. 

Mackenzie pulled up the communications array and sent a call out to Coulson’s team, which he thankfully picked up quickly. 

“What is it, Mack?” 

“Well, about that-” Mack said, eyeing the two of you warily. “Turbo and Terminator seem to think you’re in danger.”

“Donnie didn’t- Donnie didn’t escape the Sandbox. He took the Sandbox _for_ Hydra!” Fitz managed to grit out, hands flying as he spoke.

“Hydra recruited Gill?” Coulson asked. You could practically see the look of confusion on his face. 

“Eh- Uh, the… the brain. The brain,” he said, looking between you and Mackenzie for a translation. 

“Brainwashing,” you supplied. “It’s still there, even if he isn’t aware of it. They’ll know how to reactivate it.” 

“They brainwashed him,” Mack said into the speaker. “And they’re gonna re-trigger his programming if they can.” 

“How do you know this?” Coulson asked.

“I spoke to Ward,” Fitz said vindictively. The tense silence from the other end of the line made you think that was something the rest of Fitz’s team didn’t want to happen.

“I’ve heard of the Faustus method before. They’d considered using it on me and Bucky before, but the method they used on us… was a little more _thorough_ ,” you grimaced. “I think it’s likely he was able to escape the programming for some time, though trigger words will reactivate it and put him right back into Hydra’s control.” 

A pause, then, “Do you trust Misses Barnes’ assessment, Fitz?” Coulson asked the blond. 

He looked taken aback for a moment, gaze flicking up to you. He gave you a single look up and down before he was nodding. “Yes, sir.” 

Apparently that was all it took. “Understood, Misses Barnes. I think I have no choice but to trust your expertise on the matter. Fitz, we’ll talk about this when I get home. Nice work.” He was obviously about to sign off, but you spoke up in a panic. 

“Don’t kill him.” 

“None of us wants that,” Coulson said immediately. 

“Not good enough, Coulson. I know what you’re omitting there. If you have one of your agents take the shot and put him down while he’s under Hydra control you’re killing an innocent kid. I know Fitz designed a non-lethal weapon. The Night-Night gun.” You looked at Fitz in confusion as everyone on both sides of the call (except Fitz) said, in unison, “We don’t call it that,” and pressed on. “If Hydra has to brainwash someone, it means they’re not the bad guys. Try to remember that,” you said stubbornly, glaring at the speaker in Mack’s hand.

There was a long pause, then, “Understood, Misses Barnes. We’ll prioritize non-lethal weaponry and use normal guns only if everything else fails.” 

You crossed your arms and glared down at the speaker. “I suggest you don’t fail, then.” 

Fitz grinned tentatively you and Mack gave you an appraising stare. When Coulson spoke up again, his voice gentler than before. “We’ll try our best, Misses Barnes.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You continue to search through old SSR files for the information you lead, growing more attached to the people in the base than you’re sure is healthy. It’s only a matter of time until you find what you need, but will it be what you wanted?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), mentions of torture, blood, death  
> A/N: I’m sorry

[Originally posted by jemmasimmonsy](https://tmblr.co/Z78Ofm2T1p0xC)

After all the commotion had died down and the call with Coulson’s team ended, you went back down into Vault B. Sitting idly never worked for you, not when you were waiting on something important. You realized the antsy feeling in your gut was a familiar one. It reminded you of all the times you stayed back from a fight with Steve, Bucky, and the guys to run communications and logistics. Every second of it sucked, never knowing if they’d all come back in one piece or not. 

Movement in the doorway caught your eye. 

Fitz stood there, body half-covered by the wall. “They, uh… They’re back and-”

“Gill?” you asked tersely.

“Alive,” Fitz confirmed. 

Tension you’d been accumulating since the call went out an hour or so ago finally left your body and you released a long, relieved sigh. “Good. That’s good.” 

“We- We don’t know if- if he’ll be-” 

“Brainwashed when he wakes up?” you asked, crossing your arms across your chest. Fitz nodded slowly. “The best way to keep your people safe is to secure him until you’re sure of his mental state. Until you find away to get the brainwashing out of his head you’ll have to be careful, for your sakes as well as his own. Just… don’t treat him like an animal or some sort of subhuman. He deserves better than that. He’s the victim.”

“Like you?” Fitz asked quietly and earnestly, gaze calculating even if his brain wasn’t working at the same level it used to.

You let out a long sigh. “I’m not innocent, Fitz. I’m not talking about the things Hydra made me do, either. I created weapons. Designed them to be just a little more deadly than the opponents, just a bit more efficient to construct. I could have created a weapon from the designs in my head at Azzano that could have ended the war in a week, but I didn’t.”

“Why not?” Fitz asked quietly, picking at some of the peeling paint on the door jamb. 

You scowled. “For the same reason I think Hiroshima and Nagasaki were mistakes. Catastrophic loss of human life? The murder of civilians? I hate that the world somehow managed to accept that. Weapons that destructive don’t discriminate. Even if they did, who should decide who lives and who dies? So, you _only_ kill all the enemy soldiers. What about the ones who joined up just to protect their family? The ones that joined because they had nowhere else to go? Nothing else they could do? The ones that cried every night while they thought about the people they killed and the friends and loved ones they lost? Should we create an algorithm like Zola and Hydra? No thank you. No, I wouldn’t be party to something so heinous. Didn’t stop me from creating guns with Stark that would get thousands of people killed, though, and reaping the profits.” 

You lost yourself in your thoughts for a minute and looked up. You were halfway to apologizing when you realized he probably understood better than anyone else in this base what it was like to lose yourself in your own head. 

You sighed. “But that kid? The genius who has trouble making friends and looks up to you? He made a few shitty decisions, sure, but he didn’t deserve to have his brain scrambled. If he hasn’t already, he’s going to eventually remember that he killed a lot of SHIELD agents in The Fall. He’s going to be seriously messed up, so I hope you have a damn good therapist on your staff. Or twelve.” 

Fitz mulled that all over a minute, his gaze slightly unfocused. “Have you… have you had any- any luck?” he asked finally, eyes sliding back to you. 

You grimaced and motion to the sizeable pile to your right. Four boxes. All thoroughly searched, no likely leads. “No, not yet. There’s a lot here, though, that never made it to the digital era. Things Hydra never knew about because it all stayed buried down here.”

“Is- is it dangerous that… that you’re-”

“Looking at all of this?” you asked, single eyebrow raised. He nodded quickly and you blew out a small sigh. “Honestly? I’m not sure. My memory is good but not perfect, especially not after all the deep fry treatments courtesy of the KGB and Hydra. I’d never give any of this information over willingly but…” your voice trailed off and you bit your lip, not wanting to say anymore. 

“But they have- have the- the-” he made a frustrated noise, “-backups. In your brain,” he gritted out. 

You gave him a long, sad stare in lieu of answering directly. You didn’t want to admit that there were backups to your brainwashing to SHIELD. Didn’t want that information to exist anywhere, not even in Fitz’s brilliant little head. “There’s a reason why I try not to fight Hydra in person. It’s too risky,” you said, as close as you’d get to admitting the truth. 

You could tell from the look in Fitz’s eyes, though, that he understood. 

* * *

You stayed away from Gill’s room when they brought him in. Apparently he’d come out of the brainwashing slowly without someone from Hydra there to command him. They even strapped him up to some crazy lie detector chair to make sure he was completely free of compulsion. He’d be monitored closely but they treated him like a person, which was all you could ask. 

When Coulson had asked for your input on what they should do with him, you’d simply leveled him with a flat stare and asked, “Perhaps you should ask _him_ what _he_ wants instead? Last I checked you deemed him capable of free speech. I’d still veto any suicidal or homicidal trains of thought, though,” you said dryly. 

* * *

The more time you spent on the base, the closer you got to Fitz. Even Mack warmed up to you a bit, though you caught him staring at you closely more than a few times. May ghosted you like a shadow whenever she wasn’t on mission. Morse, a very tall and imposing but personable blond, seemed to take watch whenever May wasn’t there (you hoped the woman was sleeping. You weren’t sure if May _ever_ slept, but you felt like she needed it with the amount of shit Coulson’s team put her through). You got along with Simmons like a house on fire once she realized you weren’t going to kill her on sight. Her and Fitz were having issues at the moment so you spent time with them separately, quietly watching the way they looked at each other from across the room when they thought the other wasn’t looking. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks after your first day on sight that you finally found a lead. 

After the fall of Schmidt and Zola, most of Hydra’s assets had gone to the next most senior man in the organization. When Peggy seized the facility with Morita and Dugan all those years ago they’d taken everything on the base, a veritable plethora of occult and science goodies that made your skin crawl to read about. The SSR had taken all the files on the base along with any other evidence such as video reels and pictures and anything that wasn’t downright dangerous. Those files, added to the SSR ones, painted a very gruesome, well-documented picture. 

Werner Reinhardt stared up at you in sepia, his beady gaze cold and calculating even through 70 years worth of photo deterioration. His name rang with a sort of familiarity in the back of your mind and it took you a second to realize why. The snake of a man had been mentioned in reports back in the 40′s. Peggy’s team had been after him while you and the guys chased down Schmidt and Zola. 

Among the list of data in the files were mentions of a biological sample. It was timestamped before the Winter Soldier mission in Japan but after the fall from the train. The timeline was right. The files made mentions of it every few pages.

_**BSAM003:** Extracted from BSAM002 and stored for further study._

_**BSAM003:** Cells tested against variety of conditions. Results inconclusive.   
_

_**BSAM003:** Samples show cell regeneration similar to BSAM001. Further careful study recommended: Dwindling quantities of BSAM003 remains.   
_

_**BSAM003:** Unrefined reproduction of the enhancements of BSAM002 achieved from tests run on BSAM003. BSAM001 enhancements unreplicable. Original sample consumed by final tests. Cloned samples _of BSAM003_ lack the original’s genetic modifiers. Cloned BSAM003 tissue disposed of. BSAM002 possibly necessary for successful genetic mutation. Unrefined serum sample to be coded as IS-003 in further reports. Obergruppenführer Reinhardt notified of progress. _

You turned over the last page and stared at the small pocket in the back. It was tied up with string and, if the other files were anything to go by, there were going to be some horrendous photos stuffed in there. The Hydra scientists were almost gleeful in the task of thoroughly cataloguing their experiments. 

You untied the stiff, time-eaten string that kept the pocket secure and slid the photos out. You nearly blacked out when you saw the first one. 

It was you. It didn’t show your face, but it was you. A picture of you on a cold metal table. Your legs were missing below the knee and every gash and scar on the body in the picture were ones you knew intimately. You knew that if the photographers had flipped you over there would have been a single long gash from your right shoulder to your left hip. If they zoomed in on your right hand there’d be a small circular spot from when you got a nasty infected bug bite as a kid. 

What horrified you the most was that your stomach had been sliced open in the picture. It was a clean medical cut, not like the other jagged ones from the fall. One of the scientists was holding up a little sign, _“BSAM002.”_

The next photos were of _“BSAM003.”_

You set the photos down.

You wanted to stop looking, but you couldn’t. 

It was tiny. Maybe four inches (ten centimeters) long. The scale showed it weighed no more than an ounce (28 grams). It was misshapen but unmistakably-

Unmistakably human.

A racking sob ripped through your throat. 

_Biological Sample: American003. To be stored for further study,_ was the note scribbled in German on the sign in the picture. 

Zola, for all his duplicity and evil, had been telling you the truth. 

You cried. You cried until you eyes were red and puffy and your tear ducts ran dry. You cried until your throat was so raw it hurt to swallow. You cried until your cheeks and nose were red from how many times you’d wiped at them. 

After what could have minutes, hours, the entire evening, you moved beyond the gentle shaking of your shoulders. You finally had your answer. An answer that would eat away at your soul for as long as you lived. 

The only problem was that it raised another question. What did they do with the serum they created? You hadn’t seen any mention of IS-003 in any of the pictures or in any other files yet. You couldn’t rest until you knew what had become of it. It was quite possibly the only thing that remained of your baby. You wouldn’t tolerate the possibility of it being in Hydra’s possession. 

* * *

You were so engrossed in searching through the files for any mention of BSAM003 or IS-003 that you didn’t realize, at first, that you had company. 

Mack, Hunter, Simmons, and May stood in the doorway. Hunter, Mack, and Simmons were all frozen, but May was looking at you with… pity? Was she capable of feeling pity? You’d spent over two weeks around the woman and you still weren’t sure. 

Mack was the first one to step forward, his bulky frame somehow squeezing between May and Hunter. “What’s up, Footloose?” he asked softly, stopping just a few feet away from you. You supposed you had to look like hell if he was talking to you like that. You didn’t miss the way May and Hunter’s hands slid to their guns, ready for you to blow up or have a mental break. 

You couldn’t speak yet. Your throat was worn raw. Instead, you slid a single photo across the desk towards him, your lips mashed into a straight line. If you started crying again you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop any time soon. 

Mack picked it up, took one look at it, and swore under his breath. Wordlessly, you shoved the photo of you- cut open on the table- to him. He didn’t even pick that one up. He took one glance at it and looked away. 

He placed the first photo down and your eyes followed it. It was like you weren’t in the room, not really. Your mind was retreating in on itself in an attempt to preserve what little sanity you’d manage to scrounge up over the last few months. 

You didn’t see Mack come around the desk. You didn’t even register his presence until his huge arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly to his huge chest. He didn’t say anything, but then, what could he? _“I’m sorry Nazis cut your dead body open, stole your unborn child, then brought you back to life like some sort of Frakenstein’s monster”? “I’m sorry the US government let them”?_

You could just barely see over his huge shoulder. May had walked forward with Simmons and they were staring at the photos splayed out over the desk. May’s face was tight, shock and fury showing only in the way her eyes wrinkled just so. Simmon’s face was much easier to read. You vaguely registered her muttered horror, talking about the inhumanity of it all from a scientist’s point of view. Hunter was glancing over both of their shoulders. He turned white as a sheet and pointed to you. 

“I’m getting you a beer, mate,” he said, already turning on his heel to scuttle out of the room. 

“Whiskey. Or vodka,” you croaked after him. 

Mack loosened his grip enough so that he could look down at you. “You want to go back to your car? Or into one of our guest rooms? The non-prison kind, that is. I can have Fitz get one set up for you. Or you can hang out in the lab with him. We need to… Well, we need to search the files and you’re more than welcome to take this one with you but-”

You shook your head slowly. Your head was still swimming from the sudden roller coaster of emotions followed by crying out 80% of your body’s moisture. “No, I can’t stop looking yet. They- They made something out of- of the tissues and- and I need to find out what they did with it.” 

Hunter returned promptly with a huge bottle of vodka. It was the cheap stuff, but you didn’t care. You took the shot glass from his outstretched hand and knocked back four shots in one go. You didn’t even flinch even though it burned like hot coals down your sore throat.

“Woah! Hey hey hey, I know this is shitty but-” Hunter began, but you cut him off. 

“I don’t get drunk easily. I have a bastardized version of the super soldier serum. Doesn’t do much in the way of increasing strength, but it keeps me young and in peak normal human condition with little upkeep on my part. It’s nice until I want to drink away my problems and I have to down an entire aisle of a liquor store to do it,” you croaked, throat now burning from the vodka _and_ the crying. 

“You’re supposed to save important information like that then sweep us all under the rug in a drinking contest,” Hunter jabbed good-naturedly, not quite able to pull a smile on his face. 

You gave him a weak half-smile that was more of a grimace. “Who or what are you looking for? If it’s around the mid or late 40′s there’s a chance I’ve read about it. Might get you out of my hair faster if I can point you in the right direction,” you said with just a hair too much fondness for them to take it as an insult. 

They shared a quick look then shrugged. If they were letting you into their secret information vault they might as well get some use out of it, it seemed. 

Simmons gave you a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’re after information on an artifact one of our enemies is attempting to utilize. The only issue is that we don’t know a lot about it. It was seized from a Hydra facility in Austria in 1945 by Agent Margaret Carter and a small, elite task force. Not a lot of mentions of the Red Skull, but quite a few of one of his lieutenants, Werner Reinhardt.”

You stared at her for a long moment, convinced your ears had just played tricks on you. “Did… you say Werner Reinhardt?” you breathed. 

Simmons frowned. “Yes? Why, have you heard of him?” 

You slumped back into your chair, a short laugh leaving your lips. “Today just keeps getting better and better…” you muttered, confusing the other four people in the room. You let out a huge sigh and grabbed the vodka bottle by its short neck and down about a fourth of it. Simmons was wincing, Mack’s eyebrows were up as high as they could go, and Hunter was caught between looking impressed and scared. May had a single brow raised, though you couldn’t begin to guess what she was thinking.

“Yeah, I knew ‘im. Not personally, of course. He wouldn’t have lived through that encounter, even without all…” you motioned to your legs and hands, “ _this_. Me and the guys stuck to Zola and Schmidt. They were the biggest targets. Once we got them, the rest would crumble. Or, at least, that was the idea. You can see how well _that_ all worked,” you said bitterly. “Reinhardt was one of Schmidt’s commanders. High up, to be taken down if the opportunity presented itself, but not someone we went out of our way for, not with Zola and Schmidt still on the board. Peggy and her SSR team were in charge of keeping track of people at his level. I read about him in quite a few status reports. Like Schmidt, he was obsessed with the occult. Artifacts of power. Overcoming the limitations of mortality, of humanity. All that crap. Left quite a gruesome trail in his wake, but Peggy’s people managed to keep him more or less on the run.” You took a breath, a mockery of a smile tilting up the corner of your lips. “What made me laugh, though, is that I’m interested in him, too. Already went through his files and everything.” You pulled said file from the box and flipped it open, sharing its contents with the rest of the class. “Complete bio, psych eval, and even a picture of the slimy bastard.”

The four of them crowded around the table, but it was Simmons who spoke first. “Wait, no…” she murmured, gazing at the picture in confusion. 

“Yeah, name’s right beneath it,” Hunter said, flicking the picture with the back of his middle finger. 

“No,” Simmons insisted. “That’s Daniel Whitehall.” 

“What, you mean it looks like him?” Mack asked. 

“No, I mean it’s the same man! I’ve stared Whitehall in the face,” she argued.

“You’re joking,” Hunter said, staring at Simmons in confusion. 

“Can’t be. He’d be old as hell now,” Mack argued. 

You coughed not-so-subtly into your hand and Mack glanced at you, then tilted his head. “Alright, point taken. I just find the chances of another one of you century-old young people existing to be slim.”

“I would have agreed with you before ‘alien’ became a word we use daily,” Simmons countered. She turned her gaze on May, who was staring stoically at the folder. “May, I know I’m right.” 

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s still as young and evil as I remember him, but somehow I am,” you mused.

She huffed and pulled out her tablet and began tapping away at its surface. 

“Bobbi was dead on,” Simmons said, flicking through the files. “He _did_ have a personal connection to Red Skull.” 

You groaned and held up a hand. “Jesus, stop calling him that. His name was Johann Schmidt. He was an evil bastard with a fucked up face, but I’m sick and tired of this whole Voldemort vs. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named bullshit.” 

The four of them looked at you in surprise. “You’ve read Harry Potter?” Hunter asked, file forgotten in his hands for the moment. 

You rolled your eyes. “Listened to the audio book. Don’t have time to read when I spend all day writing code or working with my hands.” 

“Huh,” Hunter huffed, returning his attention to the task at hand. “What is this guy, Asgardian?” 

“It’s like he stopped the clock,” Simmons said quietly. 

“Or turned it back,” May said, turning the tablet around so they could see the picture on the screen. It was a photo of Reinhardt, old and wrinkled, looking at them from underneath bushy overgrown eyebrows.

“Where’s that photo from?” Hunter asked, staring at the photo in surprise. 

May gave them all a dubious look. “An old SHIELD prison called The Rat.” 

“Lovely name,” you remarked dryly.

“How long was he kept there?” Mack asked, staring down at the tablet in May’s hands.

“For life,” she whispered, confusion clear on her face as she looked at the rest of them.

* * *

When you knocked on the door to Coulson’s office a few days later, he glanced up at you then back at the screen on the wall across from him, as though he’d been expecting you. “Come in, please, Misses Barnes.” 

You stepped inside and were unsurprised when May followed you in. He was the director of SHIELD after all. The last time a Director was put in a Winter Soldier’s path he’d ended up bleeding out from three slugs to the chest (not that that had actually ended up killing him, the stubborn bastard).

You supposed it was better than having your limbs impaled and your entrails ripped out, though. Secretaries always got the short end of the stick, it seemed.

“I’m not going to ask to go with your team,” you stated. You couldn’t go and fight Whitehall. Not when there was even the remotest possibility that he knew _the words_. 

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on letting you join us,” he said not unkindly. 

“I know you’re after Reinhardt-Whitehall for different reasons than me. Something about aliens?” you asked, eyebrow raised. 

Coulson smiled that secret smile of his and nodded. “Yes, that’s right.” 

“Different aliens than the ones that invaded New York a few years back?” you wondered, frowning. 

“Different aliens,” Coulson confirmed with a nod.

You sighed heavily. “I really miss the days when the weirdest things in the world were blue laser guns, Stark’s floating car, and Steve,” you griped. 

“And when you were never a brainwashed assassin,” Coulson added.

“And when I was never a brainwashed assassin,” you agreed passionately. 

“I assume you came here for a reason, though. Other than to reminisce about the 1940′s?” he prompted gently. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to reminisce about the 1940′s? I built about a third of the things in this office myself. Or, at the very least, I designed them,” you said with a smirk.

“Depends, can you fix an original walkie-talkie wristwatch?” 

“I s’pose that depends on how bad you broke it,” you countered.

“I set it to explode so I and Agent Skye wouldn’t die trapped in my office on The Bus,” he said, completely straight-faced.

“I’m sure it’ll buff right out,” you said just as dryly. Coulson smiled at that and the two of you stood there for a moment while you gathered your thoughts. “I’m sure May or one of your other agents has informed you of what I found.” You pressed on before he could say something that would either do nothing or dredge up all the emotions you’d buried for the time being. “I want to know when you take him out or bring him in. I highly suggest you put a bullet in his head, along with the waste of space you have trapped in a cage in Vault D, but it’s ultimately your decision. I just need him out of the way so I can gain access to all of his information without risking running into him.” 

Coulson eyed you as he leaned back in his chair. “Because you’re worried he can re-trigger your brainwashing.” 

You paused for a moment, staring the man down. “I respect you, Coulson. I’m going to say this once, in the nicest voice I can: Do not try and bring me in.” 

Coulson smiled at you. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I know that car of yours packs more firepower than the quinjet and the bus combined.” 

“Did Mack ever get under its hood?” you asked curiously. 

Coulson’s grin widened a bit at that. “No, he could never get it open. It zapped him every time he tried. Not enough to hurt him permanently, of course. Just enough to sting.” 

“I set it to taze mode. Figured you wouldn’t be too happy with me if your employee shocked himself to death trying to get into the Batmobile.” 

“You call it the Batmobile?” Coulson asked, eyebrow raised. 

You shrugged. “Who doesn’t love Batman?” 

“You’re best friends with Captain America!” Coulson argued. 

You shrugged lazily. “ _Was_ best friends. I’m not exactly returning his calls right now. Besides, the three of us rode motorcycles everywhere. Could you imagine trying to drive a car through a forest in Germany? Nightmare, that would have been. So I named it after the most well-known high-tech car I could think of. Batman reruns were on in the background, so… Batmobile.” 

Coulson looked incredulously over your shoulder at May, who raised a single perfectly manicured eyebrow, refusing to take a side in this argument. He sobered after a second, though, and fixed his attention back on you. “If I refuse do we still get the information you promised us?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation. The SSR files had shown you everything you’d asked for. Now it was a matter of finding out what happened to IS-003 and your crusade could finally end. You’d pick up another cross, though. Probably start wiping Hydra off the map, but closure was so close you could almost taste it. “Any information I have on Hydra is yours. If you agree, anything I learn after this will go straight to you, too. That includes information Reinhardt-Whitehall has squirreled away. If I find anything to… to reverse their brainwashing, you’ll be the second to know.”

“Second?” Coulson asked, confused. 

You gave him a small smile. “Mister Barnes,” you said simply.

Coulson nodded at that. “Understood. We have a deal, Misses Barnes,” he said, sticking his hand out for you to shake.

You raised an eyebrow at it, then pointed to your own golden-wired hand. “You sure that’s such a good idea, Coulson?” you asked sardonically. “Built in joy-buzzer… that can kill an elephant.” 

Instead of answering he continued to hold his hand out for you to take, looking at you expectantly. 

You groaned and took his hand in yours. “You’re stupid. That was monumentally stupid,” you complained, even as you shook his hand then dropped it. 

“I agree,” May said behind you, though you were thankful her anger was directed at Coulson and not you. 

“Some advice?” you said, regarding him from your spot in front of his desk. 

“Shoot.” He winced. “Poor choice of words. Go ahead, please.”

“Delete any record of me being here. Burn my lanyard the moment I drive through that front door. Purge the video recordings. Make sure none of your agents mention me. We both know Hydra’s still out there. We know what I mean to them. For the sake of me and your people, pretend I was never here.” 

Coulson nodded. “Already taking care of it.” 

You nodded. “And…” you took a deep breath. “If you need me, you know where to find me. If I move, I’ll be sure to get a message to you somehow.” He gave you a single nod of acknowledgement. “Now, I… I have something important to do. Thank you for your time and cooperation, Coulson,” you said, pulling a nondescript USB from your back pocket. You placed it on top of the papers on his desk and headed to the door, stopping before you passed May. “Oh, by the way, I’m taking some of the pictures with me. I left copies for your files, but I’m commandeering the originals.” 

“I understand. Stay safe, Misses Barnes,” he said quietly. If you weren’t mistaken, there was a note of concern in his voice. Whether it was for you or the people around you was unclear. 

You gave May a nod which she returned and you nearly smiled. That was the May equivalent of another person’s exuberant, loud goodbye. 

When you made it to the garage Fitz and Mack were waiting by your car. Word traveled fast on the base, it seemed. 

“Hey, Mack. Fitz. You got that transceiver patch down under six minutes yet?” you asked the blond by way of greeting. 

They both turned to look at you. The blond shifted nervously. “Seven minutes thirty-two seconds,” he said anxiously. 

You sent him a bracing smile. “You’ll get it. If I can fix highly-advanced cybernetic limbs without having any conscious idea of what I’m doing, you can patch a transceiver from muscle memory.” 

“You can really do that?” Mack asked, eyeing your nano-skin covered legs.

You nodded. “I helped design them originally. Hydra tricked me into it. I always was better at designing things than their engineers. I made them so it’s an intuitive design for me. Even when I couldn’t remember my own name or what year it was, I could repair them. I’ve fixed Bucky’s arm and my leg more times than I can count… mostly because I can’t remember everything,” you said, taking a stab at darker humor. It earned you weak smiles, but you’d take it. “Point is, you can handle it. Coulson wouldn’t put you on it unless he believed you could.” 

Fitz nodded. “I- I think I can do it.” 

“Oi! Where do you think you’re getting off to without saying goodbye?” said a familiar voice from somewhere around the door that led deeper into the base. 

You turned to see Hunter walking with a purpose towards the three of you, brown paper bag clutched tightly in hand. A quick backscatter scan revealed it to be a bottle of booze. Vodka, if you weren’t mistaken. 

“Vodka. The good kind this time?” you asked with a smirk. 

“What’s the point of getting the good, expensive stuff if it takes three bottles for you to even get a buzz going? Might as well just buy it in bulk, cheap,” Hunter groused. 

“I like the taste,” you said, taking the bag from him with a grateful smile. 

Hunter made a disgusted face. “You really did live in Russia for most of your life, didn’t you?” 

You pulled the bottle half out of the bag and gave it an appreciative once over, then shot Hunter a wink. “Da.” It was the good stuff.

“Before you go, can I get a peek under the hood?” Mack asked, his eyes sliding over the Batmobile longingly. 

“Sure,” you agreed easily. Mack hardly believed his luck. The three of them followed you to the front of the car and you placed your hand on the hood, smiling as it easily popped open at your touch. It was designed to open only to your specific hand print scan coupled with a specific electrical current. 

All three of them took two huge steps back when they spotted the huge turret-defense guns sitting idly just under the hood. They shot a variation of the Stark’s repulsor blasts.

Mack stared at them for a second, then, “The engine’s in the back, isn’t it?” 

You gave him a mockingly apologetic smile. “The engine’s in the back,” you confirmed. 

“That’s cold,” Mack said as you closed the hood. He looked a little bit like a kicked puppy. A huge, muscular puppy. It almost reminded you of Steve. 

“That’s the brand,” you sing-songed as you walked over to the driver’s side. 

You were taken by surprise when Fitz wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. It was slightly less of a surprise when Mack joined him. You had to nearly bite back a laugh when Mack reeled Hunter in with one of his big hands. 

“No, I don’t do- Gah- Why are- Fine, aaaand we’re hugging now,” Hunter mumbled obstinately, his face close to yours, an amused smile dancing on his lips when he realized he wasn’t getting out of the group hug. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, earnest smile on your lips. 

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ abou’,” Fitz muttered.

But you were sure he did. They were treating you like a person. A human being with feelings. And emotions. 

“Yeah, jus’ don’t tell your husband about this, alrigh’? I fancy myself a tough man but I don’t want to be on Mister Barnes’ shit list,” Hunter half-griped, half pleaded.

You smiled as the group hug broke apart. “I dunno. I think he’d like you. All of you.” You suddenly had the urge to hang around longer, but they had a mission soon and you… you had a mission of your own. 

“Alfred, run a system check. Eliminate foreign devices.”

“At once, madam,” came a synthesized British voice from the car. 

There was a quiet zapping sound and a piece of metal flew a few feet into the air then landed on the ground with a smack. 

“One such device found. It has been removed with prejudice,” your AI, Alfred, informed you. 

You turned to smile at Mack, who shrugged helplessly, sheepish smile on his face. “Director’s orders. Can’t blame a guy for trying.” 

You smiled at the three of them as the wing doors swung upwards. All three of them ducked in unison to get a peek inside as you slid in. Hunter let out a low whistle, Mack nodded his head in appreciation, and Fitz’s eyes were darting around, trying to take in as much as possible. His jaw was hanging ever so slightly slack. 

The doors lowered back down slowly but you were already rolling down the window. You pointed to Mack and beckoned him forward. He gave you a confused stare but acquiesced and leaned down so his head was right next to yours. 

You leaned forward until your mouth was right next to his ear and your voice was so quiet you knew no one else would be able to hear. 

“You should tell them about the other SHIELD. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve dug pretty deep into any possible dirty laundry on both sides. I know how Hydra works. You’re both squeaky clean. If you’re not careful you’ll end up fighting each other and not the real enemy. And, no, I didn’t tell anyone else about this.”

When you leaned back Mack’s face was hard as stone, not that you’d been expecting anything different. 

“Take care, Mack,” you said, flipping your car into gear. “You too Fitz, Hunter. Tell Simmons, Skye, Triplett and Bobbi goodbye for me, alright?” you said, throwing them a brilliant smile over Mack’s shoulder. Mack straightened after a second, eyeing you like he had the first week you’d been on the base. 

The big door at the other end of the huge hangar area opened and you sped off towards it, hair flying in the breeze before you rolled up your window and sped out of the SHIELD facility, not glancing back. 

Beside you on the passenger sat a folder full of pictures and intel. On the front were seven characters. 

BSAM003.

You sighed and focused on the road, avoiding any and all cop cars that Alfred warned you about. 

“Get me Bucky’s location, Alfred,” you said, heart heavy now that you’d left the base. The people there had been a small reprieve for the near-solitude you suffered. 

“At once, Misses Barnes,” Alfred’s voice said through the speakers. A moment later his voice rang out, loud and clear. “Mister Barnes is currently residing in Puerto Rico.” 

“Huh. I was expecting Bulgaria or something. How fast can I buy a boat that can accommodate the Batmobile?” you asked the AI, already getting on the closest freeway headed southeast towards the coast. 

“It has been done, Misses Barnes,” Alfred informed you. I’ve changed your route so you’ll arrive in Miami at the marina where your new boat awaits. Estimated time of arrival: Four hours.” 

“You’re a peach, Alfred,” you said, already gunning the engine to speed down the freeway. 

“Always a pleasure to assist you, ma’am,” the AI said quietly. 

You smiled and patted the dash affectionately. “Let’s go see the lord of the house, shall we?” 

“I can hardly contain my excitement,” was Alfred’s dry, almost sarcastic response. Maybe you should have lightened up on the snark when you created him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puerto Rico turns out to be a little more than you bargained for. You need to make sure Bucky gets the important files, but can you see him after everything and still walk away?

[Originally posted by caps-bucky](https://tmblr.co/Z7lbSr2BSbgI0)

The rest of the trip to Puerto Rico was largely uneventful. Alfred’s directions kept you clear of any law enforcement or suspect individuals. You stopped in a random grocery store in Miami and grabbed enough food to last you through the trip to the island. 

The boat had been a little ostentatious for your liking, but you weren’t going anywhere without Alfred and the Batmobile, not when you had no backup and your workshop was still packed up in Indiana. You’d have to upgrade it with flight capabilities at some point so you could drive it over the ocean. Boats were annoying to take care of and you knew you’d be selling this one as soon as you were done with it. 

It wasn’t until you could see the island that it hit you.

You were going to see Bucky again. 

You’d watched him on screens over the past few months. Kept close tabs on him. Even had to pick up and move once when he got too close to your hiding spot. 

But you hadn’t looked him in the eye since the day you left all those months ago. Hadn’t felt the warmth of his skin against yours. Hell, until today you hadn’t touched another person in months… unless you were killing them. You had half a mind to turn the boat around and run away like the coward you were, but the information you had was too important. Bucky needed to know. It was his right as much as yours. 

It would be simple. Go in, drop the file in a place he’d find it, make it out before he noticed your presence. Alfred was keeping tabs on Bucky, unbeknownst to your husband. He was good, but you knew how he worked. You doubted anyone but yourself knew where he was. Not even Steve or Natalia would be able to find him, no matter how hard they dug.

You docked in the space Alfred told you to and drew more than a few looks as you rolled out of the marina in the Batmobile. “Alright, buddy. Find me a place to drop the package,” you said as you idled at a stoplight. 

“One moment, please. Searching for a suitable drop site.” 

“Maybe calculate some quick escape routes through the city while you’re at it, just in case,” you said, eyeing the people passing by on foot and in their cars warily. You hated new places. Hated old places, too. Maybe you just hated everything, or perhaps there was a small area between those two wherein existed places you didn’t hate. 

“I have found a suitable location to leave the file for discovery by Master Barnes. I advise haste to the site, as Sir’s behavior patterns tend to not hold a pattern at all and it is unlikely I will be able to find another suitable location before the day ends if we miss this one.” 

“Got it, Alfred. Throw it up on the screen and take the wheel while I review it,” you said, pulling your hands off the steering wheel as Alfred took over driving. Turns out Bucky was on his way to a little farmer’s market on the north side of town. He was on foot, which didn’t surprise you much. You hadn’t caught him using motorcycles or cars while you’d been separated. You didn’t want to dwell too much on the possible implications of that, the guilt twisting low in your stomach unbidden.

“I suggest parking in the garage a few blocks over. The appearance of the Batmobile will only draw unwanted attention,” Alfred reasoned. 

You groaned, biting your lip as you thought it over. Alfred was right, of course. The moment Bucky caught sight of the Batmobile the jig would be up. You still had to escape back to your boat and that’s be a lot more difficult if Bucky tilted the Batmobile on its side. 

You really needed to get those flight functions installed. 

“I’m going in undercover, Alfred. Nanomask, nanoskin. I’ll leave the file where I know he’ll find it and observe from a distance, ensure he receives the package.”

“(Y/N), there’s been a new development,” Alfred informed you warily. 

You groaned. That tone never meant anything good for you. “What is it, Alfred?” 

“It appears SHIELD activity in the area has increased since we made landfall.” 

You frowned. “Are they after us?” you asked, already slipping back into combat mode. The icy coldness that instantly wormed its way into your bones scared you. How easy it was to slip back into the ruthless efficiency of The Soldier when you were in danger. 

“It does not appear they are aware of our presence,” Alfred informed you carefully. You knew he was monitoring your vitals closely enough to recognize the change. “They are gathered around ruins in the south of the city… From what I can gather it appears that it is Coulson and his team.”

You groaned and thumped your head forward onto the steering wheel. “They’re in trouble, aren’t they?” you murmured, already knowing Alfred’s answer. Where Coulson and his team went, trouble sure well followed.

“Yes, (Y/N). Should I set a course for their location?” Alfred asked, tone neutral. 

You glanced at the folder on the seat beside you for a long moment, torn. Finally you cursed and nodded. Bucky waited this long. He could wait a few hours more for you to help Coulson and his merry band of fucking idiots. “Turn the car around, Alfred. We have damsels in distress to save.”

* * *

Puerto Fucking Rico. You should have just turned your damn boat around the second you made port. Maybe given Bucky a heads up you were coming so he was waiting on the docks for you and peaced out you the moment he step foot on your ship. Hell, if you had your way you wouldn’t even stop, just trust in his ability to jump onboard as you sped by. 

“We have to go, Triplett. Now,” you gritted out, staring at the large cylindrical room Skye had just disappeared into with a woman you didn’t recognize. 

“Not without Skye!” Triplett said, banging against the thick, solid stone as though it’d make a difference. “Don’t you- don’t you have something that can break through these walls?” he asked, sparing you only a glance.

You looked up at the ancient ceiling and grimaced. “Not anything that wouldn’t also bring the whole thing down on us. I know she’s a good agent, a good person, but I’m not looking to die today,” you muttered. _I have better things to be doing right now_ , you thought bitterly. That was perhaps a bit unfair. From what you could glean, whatever SHIELD was doing here was important. 

“We can’t just stay here with our thumbs up our-” he froze as the ground began to shake. And the walls. And the ceiling.

You watched in horror as a long crack ran up the side of the room. Even more branched out from the center room to create a web-like pattern on the ceiling and walls around. 

“Run,” you whispered, eyes dropping to Triplett in horror. “ _Run!_ ” you yelled, already turning on your heel to make a break for the exit you saw earlier. You weren’t getting fucking buried under tons of rock today. You didn’t make it through World War II and 70 years of brainwashing just to die to some damn rocks… that you shouldn’t even be having to deal with if SHIELD could just get its goddamned shit together!

You ran slow enough for Triplett to keep up and had half a mind to throw him over your shoulder in a fireman’s carry, knowing you’d get the two of you there faster. The only problem was the somewhat narrow hallways. 

It didn’t seem to be a problem, though. The earthquake died down, leaving the tunnels only partially collapsed, especially close to the chamber.

“Skye,” Triplett whispered, staring down the hallway towards the chamber where she’d disappeared. He made to run back to her, but your firm hand on his shoulder froze him in his tracks. “Get off of me!” he said angrily, jerking away from your touch.

Your gaze turned a little icy as you regarded him. “I know you want to go to her, but we don’t know if the tunnels are stable. You have people up there that have no idea what’s happening. If you go after her now half-cocked you could get yourself killed. Possibly the agents that come after you, too, if they don’t know what they’ll be walking into. Yes, you should try to save her, but not if even more people get killed in the process. You don’t even know what or who is waiting for you in that room.”

Triplett’s jaw worked as he stared at you. Finally, he relaxed a slight bit and walked towards the entry room that had the rope they used to get in and out of the city. “Grandpa always said you were even more reckless than Captain America. Guess he was wrong,” he said, though it didn’t sound like a condemnation. 

“I was young and foolish then. Now that I’m in my twilight years I found that wisdom really does come with age,” you said dryly. 

Triplett looked up at you as he hooked himself up to the rope pulley system, looking conflicted. “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here. I hope Skye’s okay, but if something bad happened in that chamber-” he paused and took a deep breath. “Just, thank you. Can you get out alright?” he asked as he gave the rope a sharp tug. 

You jumped, letting your rockets boost you all the higher, and dug your talons into the thick rock. “I’ll manage. Good luck rescuing Skye, Triplett,” you said, already clawing your way up the hole. 

It was so dark that you lost sight of Triplett within a minute, but that didn’t stop you from hearing his whispered but heartfelt “You too, Misses Barnes,” as you clambered upwards. 

Fitz-Simmons was waiting at the top of the shaft. It was obvious from their slack-jawed expressions they hadn’t been expecting you or known you were down there to begin with.

You groaned and stretched your limbs, thankful to be out of the damn alien city. It messed with your electronics something fierce and your legs hadn’t worked quite right the entire time. Your hands’ wiring hadn’t been responsive at all. 

“Triplett’s on his way up. Now, if you don’t mind, I have somewhere to be,” you muttered, giving Fitz a friendly pat on the cheek and Simmons a playful, mocking salute before you walked out of the room, leaving them gaping in your wake. 

* * *

“Did we miss the window, Alfred?” you asked the moment you were back into the Batmobile. You’d parked it well over a mile away. The walk had been ass, but you weren’t chancing any of the bullshit SHIELD seemed to attract. Not with your masterpiece.

“Affirmative, (Y/N). But you should be pleased to know I have found another opportunity.”

“Really? You’re the best, Alfred. What’s the plan?” you asked, already moving to buckle up. 

“Wait,” Alfred said. You waited for him to elaborate further, but when he didn’t you frowned and leaned forward slightly.

“Whaddya mean?” you asked, confused.

“The opportunity has come to us,” Alfred said quietly. You had barely a moment to wonder at what he meant before a soft tap at your window startled you so badly you nearly screamed. 

Your head whipped to the side and you stopped breathing.

James Buchanan Barnes was standing just outside, bright blue eyes squinted slightly as though it would help him see through the tinting on your windows (it would not). 

Your pulse raced in your veins and it took you a second to remember how to breathe. He looked just like you remembered, but also different. His facial hair had grown out a bit, leaving him with a short, scruffy beard that hid his cleft chin and the sharp line of his jaw. His long hair was tucked behind his ears and half-hidden by a baseball cap. He was wearing a holey long sleeved shirt and gloves. 

He looked amazing. Your memories and dreams and 2D images could never do him justice. 

Color and feeling came slamming back into you in an unstoppable wave, washing through your unprepared mind like a tsunami through a coastal town. How had you not noticed the world had gone so grey around the edges? Had you really not realized that sights and smells had begun fading away to nothingness? 

Bucky Barnes brought life to your existence, even now. Even with a piece of glass and a mask between you. 

How stupid you’d been to leave him. 

But you’d do anything to keep him safe. 

Including leaving him again.

Apparently you’d been frozen long enough because he raised his hand and rapped his knuckles gently against the missile-proof glass again. You took one look in the mirror to ensure your mask was in place, displaying the face of another woman, before you rolled the window down slowly. 

“Hey there, handsome. Are you the one I’m supposed to meet here?” you asked coyly, voice altered by the mask. 

Bucky frowned slightly, though he looked more hurt than anything else. “Please don’t,” he whispered, sounding wrecked. 

Your heart constricted painfully in your chest. You reached for the file and held it out between you. “Sorry if you don’t like the news I’m givin’ ya, sweetheart. I only get paid to deliver-”

“Stop,” he rasped. Pleaded. His grey-blue eyes bored into you, a window to his soul. He was hurting so, so badly. 

And you’d done that to him.

“I’ve been watching you since you left the site that was crawling with SHIELD. Even with whatever tech you have disguising your face and cybernetics I know you. Not to mention I can hear your metal legs. They clink and whirr ever so softly whenever you move,” he whispered, giving you a sad smile. “Please don’t treat me like a fool.”

You grimaced as tears threatened to spill. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I- Please, get in. We’re in danger out in the open like this,” you whispered, your fear and sadness sounding odd in a voice that wasn’t your own. You didn’t want to show both of your faces in the same place so you’d wait until he was inside to take the mask off. 

He stared at you for a long moment. “Will you take off the second I step away from your window?” he asked, voice almost accusing. 

You shook your head quickly, pleading with him with your eyes. That hurt, but you deserved it. Deserved all of his anger and distrust. He stared at you a second longer before he walked around to the other side of the car and slipped inside. The moment he was in, you turned off the nano mask and slipped it from your face. 

“Alfred, surveillance and guardian mode, please,” you said quietly. 

“At once, Mistress Barnes. Additionally, it is a pleasure to finally meet you, Master Barnes,” the AI said quietly, sensing the gravity of the situation between the two of you. 

Bucky stared at the dashboard as though it’d grown a goat head and started singing the Russian national anthem at him. 

You wanted to smile at his reaction, but the current atmosphere just wouldn’t allow it. “That’s Alfred, my AI. He helps me monitor… well, everything.” 

“Everything… including me?” he asked, blue eyes sharp as he looked over at you.

“That is correct, Mister Barnes. Misses Barnes requested that I keep an eye on you at all times. It is thanks to her programming that I am able to perform such a monumental task, as you are quite adept at avoiding nearly all forms of surveillance. I fear without her input such a feat would have been impossible,” Alfred informed him.

Bucky’s eyes clouded over for a moment and didn’t clear when he looked up at you. “So you knew where I was? This whole time?” he asked. 

His voice was immeasurably sad. It was the worst. You wanted him to yell at you. Cuss you out. Tell you he never wanted to see you again. Anger. Hate. Rage. You could take all of that and not even blink because you knew you deserved it, but the way he was looking at you just then, as though you’d just ripped his heart out with your bare hands? That was torture. What made it absolutely unbearable, though, was that, behind all that hurt, you could see the love in his eyes. 

You didn’t have an answer. At least, not one that justified what you’d done. How foolish you’d been. How tremendously stupid. What was the point of being free if you couldn’t be with your heart? 

“I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing for leaving you, Buck, but there’s somethin’ you gotta see first,” you said, holding the file out to him once more. 

His eyes searched your face as he slowly reached for the file. For what, you didn’t know. 

“I was lookin’ high and low for- well, you’ll see. I finally found a lead thanks to Pegs, but-” your voice died in your throat as the images in the file flashed in your mind’s eye. You didn’t have to look at the papers anymore. You’d long memorized every word, every grain of each picture. 

Bucky eyed you warily, sensing your distress. He flipped the file open and his eyes immediately began scanning them. The furrow in his brow grew the longer he read until, at last, he got to the pictures. His face darkened immediately and you watched as tears fell onto the old pages. He raised his right hand and hastily wiped them away, but they just kept coming. 

“So you found ‘im,” Bucky finally managed to get out between near-silent sobs.

You nodded as tears filled your eyes. “I had to tell ya in person.”

“S’that why you were trying to run away a minute ago?” he said, bitterness creeping into his voice.

You winced and curled in on yourself, ashamed. “You caught me off guard, s’all,” you murmured weakly. 

Bucky frowned and closed the file slowly, turning his gaze on you. You felt like you were being zeroed in on by two huge spotlights and turned away, unable to meet his eyes. 

You were surprised when you felt his large hands wrap around you and pull you gently but unerringly into his lap. You squirmed, knowing his gentle, kind touch was too good for you. Then he shushed you gently, his lips barely an inch from your ear. His right hand ran gently over your hair, slow and soothing, and you stilled immediately. 

“I didn’t know how else to keep you safe, Buck,” you muttered brokenly. 

Bucky inhaled deeply and let it out in a long sigh, but he wasn’t tense. In fact, he seemed the opposite. You’d melted into his touch and he’d done the same, nearly all tension leaving his body in the safety of this relatively safe space. 

“Promise me you won’t leave again,” he said, barely above a whisper. His chest rumbled with the words, sending a shiver down your spine. Although his voice was carefully controlled, his turmoil screamed in the way he clutched tightly at you as though you’d vanish if he didn’t touch every inch of you that he possibly could. He breathed your scent in deeply with every breath, eyes shut as he mouthed feather-light kisses onto your exposed skin. “No point in bein’ safe if I can’t be with you,” he said quietly, but with a firmness that couldn’t be denied. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, clutching tightly at him. 

“Don’t, Doll. Don’t apologize. Just promise me,” he whispered, taking your face between his hands. You leaned into the touch of his warm right hand and brought your right hand up to cup his left gently. 

You closed your eyes and nodded against his palms, biting back tears. “I promise, Buck. I won’t leave you again. It’ll be you and me, like it was since the day I met you,” you whispered, finally opening your eyes to stare at his blue-grey ones. 

You both leaned forward at the same time, lips touching tenderly together. The kiss was like coming home after a long day and you couldn’t help but smile into the simple touch, so much better than you remembered. 

Finally, you broke away after what could have been seconds or minutes and nearly began crying at the look on his face. So open and loving as though the last 70 years hadn’t happened. Like you’d never been kidnapped back in the 40′s. Like you were just a dame and he was just a guy. 

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,” you whispered reverently, using your thumb to gently wipe the remnants of his tears from his face. 

He caught your hand and planted a gentle kiss to your palm, his eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of moments, his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. When he opened his eyes again your breath caught in your throat. God, but he was stunning. 

“I love you, too, (Y/N) (Y/M/N) Barnes.”

Nothing would ever be right again, not after everything the two of you had been through. 

But perhaps, reunited once more, you might have the will to continue existing until you learned how to live again. 

“Alfred, take us home,” you whispered to the AI. 

“At once, madam,” Alfred responded instantly. The car turned on almost silently and began moving out of the garage, driven by Alfred. You had the best seat in the house and you weren’t planning on moving until it was time to leave the car.

“Where _is_ home?” Bucky asked when he finally managed to pull his lips from the skin of your neck.

You smiled and carded your fingers lightly through his long hair. “Indiana.”

Bucky stared at you for a long second, more than one expression flicking across his face before it settled on surprise. “Indiana? As in-”

“Shelbyville, yeah,” you said quietly. 

Bucky blinked a few times. His gaze clouded over for a minute before, “I was born there,” he said, half question, half statement.

“Yeah, Buck. You were,” you said quietly, giving him what you hoped was a reassuring smile. 

“Moved to New York before I started grade school. Rebecca was only a year old,” Bucky said quietly, lost in the memories.

“That’s right, Buck,” you said quietly, rubbing slow circles into his back. 

“I don’t remember it. Indiana,” he breathed, looking confused for a moment. “Don’t think I ever remembered it, though,” he said, though he sounded unsure. 

You carefully brushed some of his hair from his face and placed a kiss to his forehead. “Not much to remember anyway. I hope you like corn,” you said, trying for some levity. 

It worked, more or less. Bucky’s lip quirked up at the corner, though his smile was more of a grimace. “We’re not gonna stay there though, are we?” he asked knowingly.

You shook your head slowly. You hadn’t wanted to talk about this just yet, but he knew you too well for your own good. “Only for a few days. I’m… _we’re_ not done yet,” you said, nodding your head towards the file that Bucky had carefully stowed on the dash. 

Bucky’s gaze turned hard. Determined. There was absolutely zero hesitation when he looked expectantly at you. God, you did not deserve this man. “What’s the plan, Doll?” 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Bucky set your plan in motion. It’s time to track down IS-003 and put an end to this chapter of your life. However, per usual, things don’t go as planned.

[Originally posted by thosekidswhohuntmonsters](https://tmblr.co/ZyVV5h2WbgJWf)

The plan, as it turned out, was to retrieve the last of the tech you’d left in Indiana, but only after you’d given the Batmobile flight capabilities. Coulson’s little corvette, Lola, had reminded you almost violently of Howard, though you’d put a lid on those thoughts before you had a breakdown in the middle of your little auto shop. 

After that, it was to wipe Hydra off the face of the Earth. 

The nano mask you gave Bucky hid his features flawlessly (too well as far as you were concerned. You missed his face the moment he put it on). Austin was elated to find out you had a boyfriend (explaining a readily absent boyfriend was much easier than explaining a readily absent husband). Austin was surprised you were leaving for good after a week, but he didn’t dwell too long on it, which you appreciated. Bucky got twitchy when people started asking too many questions. 

Bucky was taking full advantage of the nano skin you’d made for him. He only wore short sleeved shirts and tanks the entire week, not that you could blame him. 

When Austin went home for the day and you were alone in the safety of your shop you removed his nano skin and kissed every inch of the scarred skin near the edge of the metal limb. 

It was these quiet, peaceful moments that you cherished. 

“We could just hide,” you said quietly one day while you were under the Batmobile and half-covered in grease. 

Bucky, who was sitting in the chair next to the car, shifted almost silently. “Whaddya mean?” he asked after a moment, though you were sure he knew what you were talking about. 

“Steve. And Natalia. And their friend Sam. They’re all looking for us,” you said quietly. 

“And so’s the entire world government,” Bucky said quietly. 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes as you fiddled with a capacitor. “Yeah, and the world government is run by a bunch of inept politicians who’ll never find us. We both know Natalia and Steve would find us way before them.”

Bucky grunted and you could almost see the grim half-smile on his face when he spoke. “They’re more stubborn than the rest of ‘em combined.” 

“Can’t ever imagine where they got that from,” you muttered dryly. 

Bucky huffed dismissively. “Natalia’s at least half your fault and Steve was born stubborn. I ain’t got nothin’ to do with that.” 

You sighed and rolled out from under the Batmobile, satisfied with your upgrades. You accepted Bucky’s hand without thinking, a “thank you” slipping from your lips without even consciously thinking about it. How easy it was to slip back into living with this man. 

“Fine, I take credit for half of Natalia’s stubbornness… so long as I get full credit for her ingenuity,” you said with a hint of playfulness as you hopped into the Batmobile. 

“Denied,” Bucky said through the open window. 

You frowned but nodded after a second, considering. “Yeah, I s’pose you were the one to teach her how to make a flamethrower seventy-six different ways, huh?” You said, pushing the button for hover-flight capabilities. 

“Seventy-nine, thank you very much,” Bucky said, smile working its way onto his face as the car shuddered then shot two feet up into the air and stayed there, humming gently. “Alfred, you finish decrypting the data we salvaged from Reinhardt’s lab yet?” he asked the air.

“Decryption protocols at 97% completion, Master Barnes. I recommend you and the Mistress finish packing immediately if you wish to leave the moment it is concluded. 

“Got it, Alfred. Thank you,” Bucky said easily. It had amused you how easily Bucky had taken to the AI. It was adorable how much Bucky loved all the futuristic tech you’d shown him. He’d always liked [questionable quality] sci-fi pulp novels. While Steve had brought books like the Machinery of War, Heroes of the Western Front, and other military-themed books, Bucky had brought all sorts of science and sci-fi books. When you heard about their visit to the Stark Expo back in ‘41 you’d laughed (back when laughter was much easier to come by, even on the European front). You’d been there that day, helping Stark out (he’d bribed you with shiny schematics and a fat wad of greenbacks that would buy you the raw materials you’d been eyeing enviously for months). You and Bucky had been mere feet away from each other and hadn’t even known it. 

“How’s integration with the flight systems, Alfred?” you asked, smiling at Bucky’s retreating back as he went into the apertment. The first few days you hadn’t left each other’s sides, but he’d lately taken to leaving you for brief periods, almost as if he was seeing if he could. There was always a brief flash of relief on his face when he returned and you were there, waiting. You’d curse yourself forever for leaving that doubt in his mind, but you hadn’t figured time travel out ( _yet_ ), so there was no changing it. You’d have to prove his trust well-placed each and every day from now on. 

“Perfectly, Mistress Barnes. Although the decryption has taken some of my computing power I’m still uploading efficiently into the programming. Transition should be complete by the time decryption is finished. 

You smiled and turned the flight function off, watching out the window as the tires righted themselves and the car dropped back to the ground gracefully. 

“You’re wonderful, Alfred. Did I ever tell you that?” you asked the AI with a proud smile. 

“At least twice a day, Mistress Barnes,” Alfred said. He sounded fondly amused. 

“I’m going to go help Bucky finish packing. Let us know when decryption and integration are done, alright?” you said as you slipped out of the car and gave the hood a loving pat. 

“Of course, Mistress Barnes. You will be notified upon completion of both programs.”

You nodded in satisfaction and left the garage to go back into the repair shop through the back door. You immediately went up the stairs to the apartment part of the building, not too surprised to hear the gentle movement of items and clothing coming from the direction of your room.

You turned the corner and watched Bucky work silently, admiring his broad shoulders and lithe, graceful movements. 

“See something you like?” he asked after a moment, not pausing in his endeavor of folding up all the clothes you’d accrued in your time in Indiana. 

“Yup,” you said, popping the ‘p’ playfully. 

That earned a short laugh from Bucky, breathy and exasperated, but it was music to your ears. 

“You got alotta clothes,” Bucky said, shaking a flouncy white top in his hand to prove his point. 

You shrugged. “Got used to living in one spot for a while. Things tend to gather when you aren’t constantly on the move,” you said, glancing at the single backpack he brought with him, placed on top of one of your duffels. 

“Is that what you meant earlier? Hiding in plain sight? Living as other people? Not contacting Natalia or Steve ever?” he asked quietly, hands stilling.

You sagged against the door frame and a deep frown creased your brow and pulled your lips down into a grimace. “They’re doing good now, Buck. Even Natalia. She got out. Saved the fucking world. She has friends now, or at least as close as she’ll ever let herself get to having ‘em. Steve… Steve doesn’t need us muckin’ up his life. He’d fight the whole damn earth if he had to, just to save us. We might need him, but the world needs him more, Buck, even if they don’t know it yet. I won’t make him choose between helpin’ us and defendin’ the world.”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged. He turned his head to smile sadly at you from over his shoulder. “I hate it when you’re right, you know that?” he asked quietly. “I was hopin’ you’d try to convince me to go see ‘em. So I had an excuse to put the lot of us in danger… but being stubbornly reckless was always Steve’s thing, wasn’t it?” 

You walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. He leaned back into you and you placed a kiss firmly between his shoulder blades. “Not so sure, Buck. We had alotta stupid to go around.”

He smiled ruefully and turned in your arms so he could gather you up in his own big, muscular limbs. “S’pose you’re right. Again. Peggy really was the only one with her head screwed on right, huh?” 

You smiled and refused to let yourself cry as you thought about Peggy and the guys. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“I hate to interrupt, but the decryption and integration programs are complete, Mistress and Master Barnes,” Alfred said quietly from the communication device in your ear. 

You nodded and placed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. He caught your lips in a brief kiss before he released you and finished folding the last few shirts into the bag. 

“Where we headed, Alfred?” you asked as you picked up the full bags and began walking to the garage. Your mobile lab was already packed into the space in the hood. The bags would be shoved in the back seats for lack of anywhere else to put them. The Batmobile wasn’t exactly built for travel, but you’d make do. 

“Sokovia, Mistress Barnes,” Alfred informed you as you walked into the garage. “It is a country in-”

You waved his explanation away. “I know about it. I read about it more than once in Reinhardt’s physical files. You’re sure that’s where he took IS-003?” you asked as you shoved the heavy bags into the back seat. One was full of Bucky’s weapons. Why that man needed fifty guns when you could build one that could do everything else the others did but better was beyond you.

“It is the most likely location, though not the only possibility. According to the information I’ve gathered from Reinhardt-Whitehall’s data banks, there is an active Hydra base near its capital, Novi Grad. It is under the command of one of the last heads of Hydra, Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker.”

“Still active, you say?” you asked as you slipped onto the hood, waiting for Bucky to bring down the last of the bags. 

“That is correct. After the death of Reinhardt-Whitehall, activity increased greatly. It is unclear exactly what prompted the sudden increase in activity. I would recommend moving cautiously until their goals have been discerned.” 

“Noted. Thanks, Alfy. Make sure the boat’s ready to go, alright? I want to get there as soon as possible.”

“Or course, Mistress Barnes,” Alfred said diligently. 

Bucky slipped in a second later, somehow still graceful even while carrying two large, heavy, bulky bags. If you weren’t enjoying the show so much you might have been perturbed at how elegantly he managed to move at all times.

“That all of it?” you asked as he hefted the bags into the back. 

At his nod you pulled him into your arms and stood on your toes to plant a loving, long kiss to his lips. “Let’s get goin’ then, yeah? We have some truly evil bastards to put in the ground.”

He smiled and pecked you once more on the lips. “Now you’re talkin’ my language, Sugar,” he said, voice so low and syrup-sweet that your knees felt all wobbly… and you didn’t even have human knees anymore. 

You smiled and kissed him once more, but didn’t let yourself linger. “If you don’t get in the car this instant we’ll be here for another four hours.”

“Four hours?” he asked playfully, waggling his eyebrows at you. “Someone has faith in my stamina. I’m almost a hundred years old, y’know. Give a guy a break,” he said winking playfully at you.

You stared flatly at him. “Your record is eight hours and we only stopped because I was so tired I was passing out from exhaustion.”

Bucky grin turned lecherous. “I was a younger man then. I can’t be ex-”

You brought your hand up and slapped it over his mouth. “That was two days ago, Buck.”

His eyes actually twinkled with amusement in the dim light of the shop. It was a look you saw so rarely on his face you couldn’t help but enjoy it. You took your hand from his mouth and brought your lips to his in a slow kiss that left your mind blissfully blank of everything except how wonderful it felt to have Bucky up against you. 

“Get in the car, Mister Barnes,” you said after you moved away, a small smile of your own dancing on your lips. 

His response was to slip into the driver’s side before you got the chance. 

You mock-glared at him before you went to the passenger side and got in. “If you crash the Batmobile you won’t see under my clothes for a month,” you threatened as he turned the car on. 

Bucky turned to look at you as the garage door rolled up, smirk dancing on his lips. “We both know that’s not true, Doll,” he said with such conviction that you glared at him in earnest. 

“No, it’s not, but I’ll definitely be cross with you for a long time,” you admitted. 

“I will ensure Master Barnes does not crash the Batmobile, Mistress Barnes,” Alfred assured you. 

“Argh, two against one. Your faith in me is inspiring,” Bucky said dryly as he pulled out of the garage and onto the street. 

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s just hurry and get to the coast, yeah? We have a long trip ahead of us.” 

Bucky turned to look at you with a stare that had you panicking for a split second. “Whatever you say, Doll,” he said evenly, giving you only the briefest second to ponder your poor decision before he slammed the gas pedal down and sent the Batmobile rocketing forward. 

* * *

**Novi Grad, Sokovia. Europe - 2015**

Sokovia was beautiful, if a little poor and very unstable. You and Bucky slipped seamlessly into the population. The people hated SHIELD and the Avengers, especially Steve and Tony Stark. The SHIELD here, though, was Hydra. They slipped in during the rebellions a short time ago. 

The Hydra base wasn’t exactly hidden, even if it was a little distance from the city. You could see it up on the hill from nearly every point in town. The problem was that it was heavily fortified. The tech they were using was advanced. Far more advanced than any other Hydra base you’d seen up until now. Even your drones couldn’t pierce the shield they had protecting the main building. There were enough turrets inside and along the perimeter to level the city. You had no idea how to attack it without getting blasted to bits before you got anywhere near the perimeter. The rest of their weapons were advanced enough that you wouldn’t chance the Batmobile’s shielding against their big guns. 

“You’re doing the thing again,” Bucky said quietly from the doorway. 

You slowly tore your gaze from the schematics of the base, blinking a few times before you processed what he’d said. “What?” you asked eloquently. 

Bucky huffed out a laugh and walked over to your spot on the floor, carefully stepping over schematics (though he walked straight through the hologram of the base) and sat down next to you. He pulled you into his lap and you went willingly, squirming a bit until you were comfortable. You tucked your head under his chin and stared at the schematics, mind already going back under. “You’re doing the thing where you try to stare your problems into submission. Have to say, with the exception of Morita, that’s never really worked so well for you,” he said playfully, wrapping his big arms around your waist as he stared over your head at the blueprints and plans. 

You sighed and leaned back against him. “According to the civilians I talked to today, ‘SHIELD’ took volunteers from the population to run tests on. They’re being collected by this man, Doctor Henri List. He offers them power in exchange for their cooperation. Most of the people he takes are victims of the riots in one way or another. Wanna know the kicker?” you asked Bucky grimly.

Bucky squeezed you gently. “I have a feeling you’ll tell me anyway, not that I can’t guess.” 

You sighed. “Hydra started the riots. They caused the unrest. They changed their public faces a few times, set each faction against the other.”

“So they’ve set the people at odds with their government.”

“And other large global powers, such as the U.S. and the U.N. Not to mention each other.”

Bucky let out a long breath. “So we don’t know who or what exactly could be inside waiting for us,” he surmised.

You nodded and flicked through the images on the hologram. “It’s hard to get readings on the inside of the base while the energy barrier’s up, but the outside defenses are fairly straight forward, if hard to work around. The more I look at it… the more I think we won’t be able to get inside with brute force.”

Bucky tensed slightly, just like you knew he would. “You’re not going in there. Not undercover. If they find you-”

“I know, Buck,” you said, cutting across that train of thought. “I know.” And you did. You knew what would happen if they found out who you were. “But the longer we stay here, the longer that horror factory stays up and running… Primary mission is still to retrieve IS-003 or any information we can find on it, but we can’t just leave them to their own devices. The tech they’re churning out… I haven’t seen anything this advanced since Zola and Schmidt…”

Bucky shifted nervously beneath you. “Do you think it’s the Tesseract? I thought Thor Odinson took it back with him after the Battle of Manhattan,” Bucky said, frowning as he shifted through his mind for the right memories. 

You shrugged helplessly. “I can’t be sure. If it’s not the Tesseract itself then it’s something with similar properties. I’ve only been able to analyze a few small samples, but none of them match any models from earth up until now. It’s a combination of Chitauri and something else.” You sighed and relaxed back into his arms, absolving yourself of that particular problem for just a moment. “How did surveillance go?” 

You felt him shrug his shoulders ever so slightly. “Nothin’ new. I’ve been keepin’ track of shipments in and out like you asked, but it’s hard to get close without being noticed. I’m good, but they have some seriously sophisticated scanning equipment.”

“That sounds about right…” you said quietly, staring despondently down at the files. You chewed on your lip as you deliberated. “I could… I could call in SHIELD. The _real_ SHIELD,” you said finally, almost regretting the words as you said them. 

Bucky tensed beneath you, arms nearly crushing you to his chest. “We ain’t doin’ that,” he said quietly, face buried in your hair. “I don’t trust ‘em.” 

You smiled sadly and ghosted your fingers gently over his right hand. “I know, Buck. I don’t trust most of ‘em, either. Gabe’s grandkid is one of ‘em though, y’know. They can’t all be bad,” you said quietly. 

“All it takes is one. One word whispered in the right ear by one person who isn’t loyal to Coulson or the new SHIELD and we’re right back to where we were a year ago. Brainwashed, in a cryo pod or out killing innocent people. We’re not trustin’ ‘em, (Y/N). ‘Sides, Coulson said himself he’d bring you in himself if he got the chance.” 

“He didn’t try to take me in in Puerto Rico,” you said softly. 

“Cause his entire team was beat to hell and you’d just saved Gabe’s grandkid.”

You groaned and ran a hand through your hair. “I just don’t know what to do, Bucky,” you admitted at last. 

Bucky brushed your hair out of the way and placed a few tender kisses to your neck. “It’s okay, Doll. You don’t have to come up with all the answers. I’m here. We’re together now. And there’s not a single problem that can’t be solved with some good old fashioned Barnes ingenuity.” 

You turned to look at him, faint smile playing on your lips. “Where did this optimism come from?” 

Bucky shrugged. “I think it’s less optimism and more an awareness of the lengths you’d go through to get revenge. Hell hath no fury like a woman spurned and all that. And we both know the many, many methods I have for taking down a Hydra base and all the inhabitants. I spend a lot of time fantasizing about it.”

You smirked at him. “Should I be insulted you spend more time thinking about killing people than you do about your lovely wife?” 

Bucky raised a single eyebrow. “Who said that? Sweetheart, I didn’t leave the house often because I spent most of my time thinking about ya. It’s hard to get anything done with a stiffy, y’know?” 

You stared at him for a moment before breaking into genuine laughter. “Oh my god, _Bucky._ ” 

* * *

Bucky frowned and got up from his seat in front of the computer and made his way over to you. The tiny apartment you’d rented out while you were in Sokovia meant the two of you were never more then a short walk away and you could hear each other from any part of the house. 

“Hey, Doll?” Bucky asked from the doorway, looking at the tablet in confusion. 

“What’s up, Sweetheart?” you asked, tearing your gaze from yet another simulation.

“I’m getting some chatter…” he said, frowning down at the pad. 

“Whaddya mean?” you asked, still distracted by the numbers running across your screens. 

“(Y/N),” Bucky said quietly. Something in his voice made you truly look at him and you froze at the look on his face. “They’re here,” he said softly. 

You swallowed thickly. “Who?” you asked, though you were pretty sure you already knew.

Bucky turned the tablet around so you could see the blurry images on the screen. You could see the audio feed that Bucky had muted while he talked to you. He pressed a button on the screen and suddenly voices were filling the cramped room. 

_“Shit!”_ said a voice you recognized from countless interviews and reports. Anthony Edward Stark.

_“Language!”_ said a voice you’d know anywhere. Steve Rogers. You nearly laughed at that. It seemed that Steve’s knee-jerk response of rebuking your and Bucky’s foul language had survived the ice. 

Bucky paused the audio log and brought up a different one. _“At long last is lasting a little long, boys.”_ Natalia. 

“They’re here, (Y/N). Attacking the base.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Per usual, trouble follows the Avengers around like ugly on ape. However, their timing presents an opportunity to you and Bucky, and the two of you use it to the fullest.

 

 

“No sign of War Machine or Falcon. I’m sending the drones in,” you told Bucky over your comm. There’s little to no video surveillance equipment in and around the base and you wouldn’t let Bucky go in blind, not with the Avengers _and_ Hydra after you.

“Got it, Doll. I’m getting close,” he said quietly. Your drones flew over the thick canopy of trees and, though you knew he was somewhere below them, you couldn’t spot him with their video cameras until you set them to infrared.

You and Bucky had mobilized quickly after he told you about the Avengers’ attack. There was a perfect opportunity to sneak in and retrieve the data you needed after the Avengers vacated with whatever or whoever they were after but before law enforcement showed up. If they happened to take the data you needed… well, that’s a bridge you’d cross when the time came.

From your bird’s eye view you were able to survey the damage the Avengers were unleashing on the Hydra base and, though you appreciated the sight, you really hoped they’d leave the base in one piece. The Hulk was being particularly effective, smashing through entire guard houses like they were paper-mâché.

“Try to stay out of sight. I don’t think Steve or Natalia will let you escape if they-” you paused, eyes flicking to one of the other screens. You swore you saw something, but-

Your gaze was drawn to another screen. The same silver-white flash that had appeared in the first one was now occasionally flitting through the other ones. You saw it rush past Hawkeye and flip him onto his ass. Turned out it was a person, who stopped long enough to taunt the archer.

A boy, really, in his early 20′s at most. White-blond hair and a cocky grin that almost reminded you of the old Bucky.

“We have enhanced Hydra hostiles on the field, Buck,” you said quickly, trying to keep an eye on the speedster as he made his way around to the other Avengers.

“Understood,” Bucky said gravely, moving with even more caution than before. You watched as the fast kid tried to do the same thing to Steve that he did to Hawkeye, but he only half succeeded. Steve landed in a graceful crouch and immediately warned the others.

Iron Man was blasting away at the Hydra troops on the ground. If there was any doubt in your mind that Hydra had access to a Tesseract-level technology, it was eradicated by watching the Avengers fight the bastards.

A particularly loud blast sounded off near you and you knew from the way the room shook subtly that it wasn’t from the video/audio feeds.

“Town’s taking fire. If it gets any worse I’ll have to start evacuating the people,” you frowned. You didn’t want to leave your spot; this was the only way you could help Bucky at the moment. You both decided it was too dangerous to go in together. If either Hydra or the Avengers got a hold of you it’d be the job of the other to free them.

“Got it. Keep me updated. I’ll keep my distance until they clear off. See if you can’t get a drone inside the building; I’d like to know what Steve’s team is after.”

You watched as Iron Man- Tony Stark- fired an explosive from his suit. It buried itself in the ground and a second later the shielding faded, opening the way for him and the rest of the Avengers.

And, unknowingly, you.

“Shield’s down,” you said, already sending a few drones into the Hydra compound. They had cloaking so it was unlikely even Stark’s advanced sensors would pick them up. You didn’t know if Hydra’s technology would be able to, but you hoped they’d be too preoccupied to notice your snooping.

You watched the screens that had the live feed from the drones inside the base while also keeping a close eye on the status of the town. A few of Tony’s bots had flown in, but the townsfolk weren’t exactly appreciative of the gesture. You watched as someone chucked a bottle of something corrosive at the bot closest to the statue in the center of the city, wincing as it ate through the metal.

However, your attention was drawn back to the main screen when you caught sight of a flash of red and gold.

One of Tony Stark’s Iron Man suits was standing in place, turning slowly with its hand raised. You knew immediately that Tony wasn’t inside it. The man didn’t seem able to sit still for even a second.

Your eyes narrowed as your drone slowly crept further into the room, just a few inches below the ceiling. You kept waiting for the suit to turn and blast your drone out of the sky, but it never happened. The camera panned, revealing the rest of the room to you.

Computer servers, research equipment, and a lot of dirt. You narrowed your eyes at a hole in the wall and it took you a second to realize it was a hidden doorway.

“Betcha anything Tony’s in there…” you mumbled distractedly.

“What’s that, Doll?” Bucky asked, though he sounded slightly preoccupied. You supposed he had a lot to pay attention to on his end.

“Drone Phoenix found the main information hub… and a secret door. Tony’s suit is on standby, and I’d bet Alfred that the man himself is in the secret room.”

“You gonna send the drone in?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Nah, hallway’s too narrow. If I time it wrong there’s no way Tony won’t hear it. Hell, it might even hit him in the head or something. I’m gonna set her down and let her watch. With any luck we can find out what Steve and the others are after.” 

“Any sign of explosives? Plans to blow the place up?”

You frowned and flicked through the other screens, but didn’t see any sign of tampering from either Hydra or the Avengers. “None that I can see. They seemed pretty single-minded. Don’t think they plan to blow the place to kingdom come, though.”

Bucky let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Alright, keep me updated. Now that the shield’s down Hydra has better things to do than keep a lookout for me. I’m gonna get a little closer, keep an eye on Steve’s team.” 

You bit your lip as you flicked back to Phoenix’s feed. “Alright. Drone Chicago is keeping an eye on you. Be careful, alright?” you asked, worry seeping into your voice.

“Always am, Doll,” he responded instantly.

You rolled your eyes at that, but bit back any snarky response because you watched something flash across the screen.

“The speedster’s in the secret room with Tony,” you said, panic setting in slightly. That was Howard’s kid down there and he didn’t even have his suit and- “Bucky, I-” your words died on your lips as the screen flashed again. You slowed the video down enough to confirm that, yes, the speedster had left the room, but this time he was carrying a young woman in his arms.

“Alfred, run facial recognition,” you said distractedly, eyes glued to the screen.

_Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead._ You pleaded silently. You didn’t have any right to watch over and care about Howard’s kid, but you did anyway. You flinched as one of the gauntlets of the suit flew away from the rest and rocketed down into the room. That was a good sign, right?

“I’m afraid the footage is not of a high enough quality to get an accurate match, but I will do my best,” Alfred said dutifully.

“Thanks, buddy,” you mumbled, dread settling deep into the pit of your stomach. He still hadn’t come back out. If the speedster had gone in there to kill Tony, there was no way in hell you’d make it there in time to save him. He was long dead without his suit there to protect him. If by some miracle-

You watched, shocked, as Tony walked back out of the secret hallway, a glowing scepter in-hand.

“He’s alive. I know what they were after, too,” you breathed, relief and apprehension warring in your head in equal measure.

Bucky made a grunt of acknowledgement about Tony’s status. “What did they get? Data? Weapon? Artifact?” he murmured.

You leaned back in your chair, staring at the frozen image of Loki’s scepter in Tony’s armored hand. You ran a hand over your face and blew out a long sigh.

“All of the above.”

* * *

“So what is it?” Bucky asked, looking up from the tablet at you.

You didn’t even look up from the screen as you fingers flew across the keyboard, trying to find even a single scrap of data. Someone, presumably List, had thoroughly deleted nearly every piece of information on the servers and you were scrambling, trying to salvage anything you could. It didn’t help that a SHIELD or Avengers cleanup team was likely on its way, meaning you and Bucky had to be far, far away by the time they showed up.

“If you’re asking me exactly what it is and what it does, I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you. Not without more information, at least. What I do know is that it first appeared in the Battle of New York on May 4th, 2012, in the hands of Loki, brother of Thor. While in his possession it exhibited mind-altering powers along with the ability to fire energy blasts. From my own experience, I can say it definitely resembles the Tesseract in its power and abilities. It disappeared after Loki was defeated by Steve and the rest of the Avengers. I shouldn’t be too surprised SHIELD got its hands on it. Chances are it went to the Hydra operatives hiding in SHIELD and stayed there after… well, everything happened,” you said, wincing. You’d been part of “everything.”

Bucky frowned as he stared down at the tablet, which you knew had various images of the scepter on it, along with the video recording from Drone Phoenix. “If I had to guess I’d say they’re using information they obtained from the scepter to do experiments on people. It would explain why they took ‘volunteers’,“ Bucky said with a hard, angry edge to his voice. “It would also explain the speedster and the girl with the weird red energy hands.” 

You sighed and slammed your hands down on the table in frustration, making Bucky jump and reach for his gun. He looked over at you and relaxed slightly, concern lining his features. “What’s wrong, Doll?” he asked quietly. 

You growled and fought the urge to kick the table across the room. “Hydra was damn thorough and I don’t have the time to work my voodoo computer magic with the authorities on their way,” you spat, renewing your efforts despite your words.

You froze when you felt Bucky’s arms go around your waist, not having heard him walk over to you. “It’s gonna be okay, Doll. If we can’t get the intel before the authorities arrive we’ll just break in and steal whatever they get later,” he said soothingly.

You snorted and leaned back in his arms, though you resumed digging through the deepest recesses of the computer you were on. “I love you, you know that?” you asked, smiling softly.

You felt his smile against your skin as he placed a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. “I did, actually,” he said. His breath ghosted against your skin and you fought back a shiver. “But I still like hearin’ it.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Go look for any hard copy files? IS-003 was developed in the late 40′s so it’s possible the information about it was never transferred into the digital era.”

He placed one last kiss to your cheek before he let you go. “Now _that_ I can do,” he said determinedly.

“Start with the secret room?” you said distractedly as lines of code flew across the computer screen. “And don’t touch the giant space whale monster!” you warned him as he disappeared around the corner.

“Yeah, yeah. I heard ya. Touch the giant space whale monster!” he called back. 

You were so engrossed in your work it took a second for his words to sink in. Your head whipped up so quickly you almost gave yourself whiplash. “ _James!_ ” you said, exasperated. You could hear his low rumble of a chuckle echoing up through the hallway. You rolled your eyes and returned to your work, hoping his curiosity wouldn’t get the better of him.

Alien contaminants weren’t your specialty, after all. If he wasn’t careful, he’d embody the phrase “curiosity killed the cat.”

* * *

You closed the door as Drones New York and Houston came in, toting the last of the boxes filled with files between them. 

“In the spare room, Alfy,” you said distractedly. As you meandered after them you flicked through the meager files you managed to salvage from the Hydra base’s servers, looking for any mention of IS-003. So far, the only things you found were records of the human experimentation they’d been performing since they obtained the scepter. The information was grisly, which didn’t surprise you. Hydra cared little for most of its patients, and this experiment was no different. Only two out of the nearly one hundred test subjects had survived; Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, twins from Novi Grad. “Got the names of the speedster and the red one,” you called out into the apartment. 

Bucky’s head popped around the corner from his spot in the kitchen. Now that you’d stopped long enough to take in some of your surroundings you noticed a sinfully delicious smell wafting from the kitchen. “Are they names we should know?” he asked distractedly.

You shook your head and flipped the tablet around so he could see the photos you’d found of them both in the data and online. “Nah, their names are Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. Twins. Locals. Orphaned at ten when a bomb collapsed their apartment,” you said, frowning.

Bucky’s expression went stormy. “They’re just kids…” he muttered bitterly.

You sighed. “Young adults, technically, but yeah… not that much younger than we were when we signed up to fight in the war…”

“They volunteered,” Bucky said, half-question, half-statement.

You nodded and let out a long sigh. “Yeah… doesn’t say why, or if they knew who they were signing their lives over to. Judging by their psych evals, though, they didn’t really care. Hydra offered them a chance for power and they took it. They stayed, even when everyone else around them started dying.”

Bucky frowned and leaned against the doorway, absently turning the spatula over slowly in his hand. ”Sounds like there’s a story there,” he said, lost in thought.

You bit your lip and nodded. “And I have a feeling we should look a little more closely at them… but for now, we have work to do. IS-003 first, freaky twins later.”

Bucky’s gaze focused on you and he _tsked_. “No, food first. When was the last time you ate?” he asked knowingly.

Your brow furrowed as you thought about it. You couldn’t remember.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s what I thought. Food’ll be ready in ten. Wash up,” he said waving you away with the spatula. You nodded and turned on your heel, nose already buried back in the tablet. “And no phones, experiments, or tablets at the table!” he called testily after you. You waved his protest away as you turned into the room.

* * *

An hour later you sat back-to-back on the floor in the spare room, buried in files and blueprints and tech. Holograms flashed as Alfred cycled through information, bathing you and Bucky in shifting blue, orange, and green lights. You worked silently with 40′s swing jazz playing softly from the speakers in the living room. You didn’t have to speak to communicate with Bucky. Working together for the better part of 70 years meant that you could practically read each other’s mind. Occasionally your thoughts floated over to the bottom shelf of your refrigerator, which was now full of biological samples. Bucky had been less than thrilled with putting scientific samples right above the food, but you didn’t have anywhere else to store them on such short notice and they’d have to stay there until you ordered or made the machinery you’d need to analyze all of them.

It was possible IS-003 was one of them; the labels on some were faded or lacking them altogether (while that specific practice was appalling to you as a scientist you weren’t all that surprised by it. Hydra was paranoid at best). Until then, your best bet was searching through every piece of information you’d stolen from the base. The authorities had arrived not long after you’d left and they’d quickly cleared it of nearly everything you and Bucky hadn’t taken yourself. Only the heavy machinery that couldn’t be removed easily had been left but you wouldn’t be surprised if that was gone by the end of the week, too.

So it was a surprise when, in the middle of the night, the lights of the base turned back on. You and Bucky both looked over the largest screen on which Alfred had already plastered the video feed.

“What the hell?” you asked quietly. “How did someone get inside without the other sensors going off? I calibrated those myself,” you said, glaring at the screen.

“The sensors you placed at the perimeter have not been activated since the authorities left over eight hours ago, Mistress Barnes. I have been monitoring them closely as you requested and can confirm there was no mistake. No one has entered or exited the building,” Alfred informed you, which only caused you to frown harder.

“So the base just turned itself on?” Bucky asked quietly, looking up at the screen in disbelief.

“It would appear so,” Alfred said dubiously.

You frowned and turned your head so you could look over your shoulder at Bucky, who was peering at you with a single grey-blue eye. “Secret entrance?” you asked.

Bucky shook his head. “Alfred and I both checked. I don’t think there’s a way in hell both of us missed a hidden entrance.”

“Remote activation?” you guessed, turning back to stare up at the screen. Even more lights had come on in the last minute or two and the power usage was spiking. Someone was doing something down there and they were using a lot of energy for whatever it was.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the screen. “Who else do you think has that kinda access to that base? From what information we have, all of the Heads of Hydra should be dead or locked up now.”

You harrumphed and leaned heavily into Bucky’s back. “We’re gonna have to check it out, aren’t we?” you asked, resigned.

Bucky turned and pulled you into his lap, and you grumbled as papers fell a few inches to the ground or were messed up as you moved. “Well, we don’t hafta do anything we don’t wanna do… but I think that’d be best, yeah. If it’s Hydra we shut ‘em down, and if it’s not…”

You buried your face in his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist, taking comfort in his familiar smell and warm embrace. “We see what they’re after… and go from there.”

* * *

“I don’t like you goin’ alone,” Bucky’s voice said in your ear, slightly digitized over the comm.

“I heard you the first fifteen times you said that, Buck. But someone has to stay with the research and keep an eye on the other sensors and video feeds. You bein’ here won’t do us much good if we both walk into a trap we coulda otherwise seen comin’,” you murmured as you passed over the edge of the property.

“Well your sensors are workin’. They just lit up like a Christmas tree… Gotta say, that’s a nice angle,” Bucky said somewhat filthily.

You rolled your eyes. “Focus, Buck.”

“I _am_ focused,” he said, all suggestive and flirty.

“ _James_ ,” you hissed as you crept closer to the base.

“Relax, Doll. I’m keepin’ my eyes peeled. Just get in and out fast, alright?” he appeased.

“I’m getting close. Keep communication limited to vital updates only. Talk to you on the other side,” you told him, voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Alright, Doll. Good luck,” Bucky said quietly, his dislike of this entire situation evident in his tone.

You couldn’t help yourself from saying one last thing. “Don’t need luck, Buck. I have you.”

You could hear him huff out a laugh and could picture his exasperated smile in your head, but you had to focus.

You pushed open the door, thankful for the sound of heavy machinery that covered the high-pitched squeak of the rusty hinges. The machines on the first floor had been moved around. In fact, every single one of them was missing. The sounds were coming from the next floor up, along with a high-tinny voice that took you a second to place.

_“There are no strings on me!”_ it sang over the loudspeakers, barely audible above the din of metal on metal.

_Pinocchio?_ you mouthed, confused. Why was a movie that came out circa 1940 being blasted out in the speakers? And why only that one line, over and over?

Something odd was happening.

You followed the loudest sounds, moving slowly and carefully through the hallways. When you finally turned the corner and found the source of all the noise, you froze, dumbstruck.

The machines had been automated by someone, churning out humanoid robots at an unholy speed. You looked a little more closely, frowning as you saw bits and pieces you recognized.

It reminded you of Tony Stark’s bots- the Iron Legion- but something was different. These were sleeker, darker, all hard lines and angles. They lacked Tony’s bright colors that were so signature for all of his suits and robots up until this point.

You stayed in the shadows, not wanting to risk getting closer. If they had even a sliver of the sensory tech that Tony’s bots did, they’d notice you the second you got too close. In fact, you shouldn’t stay here any longer than you had to.

What struck you as odd, though, was that you hadn’t seen a single human. you thought you’d spotted one earlier, but it was simply a taller, more advanced bot than the rest.

It had sent a shiver down your spine, just the wrong side of the uncanny valley. It was dangerous.

Satisfied by your recon, you quickly retreated the way you came, fighting the urge to break into a run, to put as much distance between you and the robots as possible.

The moment you were outside and far enough away, you were talking. “Something big’s goin’ on, Buck. The base is churnin’ out robots kinda like Tony Stark’s, but meaner lookin’, packed with more weapons. Didn’t see a single human being.”

Bucky’s voice immediately set you slightly at ease, even as you broke into a run and began sprinting through the woods towards town. “’ _Like_ ’ Tony Stark’s? You don’t think they’re his?” Bucky asked.

“I’ve studied Tony’s tech pretty closely. I know his style, and this isn’t it. Some’a the parts are his, though. I recognize the method of construction as well, so it’s definitely based on his tech.”

“But you still don’t think they’re his?” Bucky asked as you reached the edge of town.

You frowned. “I dunno for sure, Buck. It always could be, but I’ve kept an eye on Stark Technologies. He’s going legit. Clean energy, alternative fuel, tech to save the world. As soon as his weapon contracts ended he didn’t renew them. I don’t think he’s suddenly gone rogue. This feels like somethin’ else.”

Bucky grunted as he chewed on the new information. “Balcony door’s open,” Bucky said, probably watching your progress on his screen.

You rounded the corner and glanced up at your apartment’s balcony; three floors up and the third one from the left. Sure enough, the door was left ever so slightly ajar. “Shouldn’t leave the door open, Buck,” you chastised.

“I have your drones poised to shoot anyone who ain’t you or me,” he retorted.

You sighed and gathered energy in your legs, leaping at the last second. You made it as far as the second floor before you had to jump again, hands digging into the wrought iron as you gathered strength again. You jumped up and over the railing of your balcony with ease, metal feet clanking ever so softly against the ground.

Sure enough, three of your drones were facing the doorway, energy guns pointed directly at you.

“Welcome back, Mistress Barnes,” Alfred’s voice chirped out from the closest one, Drone San Diego.

“Thanks, Alfred,” you said, giving it an affectionate pat as you closed the balcony door then closed the shutters that’d stop anything but the largest missiles. Bucky was standing in the doorway of the spare room which was filled to the brim with tech and Hydra intel. He stared expectantly at you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“So, we stayin’ or runnin’, Doll?” he asked, though he sounded like he already knew the answer.

You thought about the residents of Novi Grad, how Hydra had destroyed their lives. How yet another threat loomed on their doorstep and not a single one of them knew.

And how you could help them.

Your jaw clenched as you looked Bucky dead in the eyes. “We’re stayin’. And fightin’.”

Bucky’s eyes were alight with amusement, even as he let out a long-suffering sigh. “Somehow I knew you’d say that.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokovia goes for a ride… with you on top of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), violence, extremely prejudiced robot destroying

[Originally posted by akamatthewmurdock](https://tmblr.co/ZIMhHj24lush4)

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” Bucky’s voice was loud in the communication device in your ear. You flinched away from the noise, but your gaze remained trained on the horizon which, even as you watched, was slowly disappearing beneath the edge of the city.

“What the fuck is happening, Buck?” you breathed, glancing around as all hell broke loose around you. The machines you’d seen in the Hydra base were online, their red eyes and dark metal flashing in the streets of Sokovia. All around you people ran in fear, though you had a sinking feeling there was nowhere for them to go.

“City’s flying,” Bucky said faintly, clearly not completely trusting his eyes.

“Scan, Alfred?” you hissed into your communication device.

“Master Barnes is correct, Madam. A large portion of the city has been lifted from the ground, held together by what appears to be a single column. Magnetic field likely, Vibranium detected,” Alfred informed you crisply.

You swore under your breath. “Ideas, Buck?” you asked, jogging closer to the edge of the giant slab of rock. The city was a already good fifty feet in the air and rising higher by the second.

“I could fly the Batmobile up there,” he said faintly. You wondered exactly where in the city he was, wishing you could spot him among the terrified people, murderous robots, and falling debris.

You thought about it for a second, chewing on your lip. “You gotta get the people to a safe spot, Bucky. You got me and the rest of the Avengers up here. Nobody is down there to save the other folks.”

Bucky swore loudly in Russian, but he knew you were right. “How do you propose I do that? That rock gets higher and drops and it won’t matter how far we run,” he said darkly.

You swore and ducked behind a car as one of the death bots flew by. You couldn’t stand by for much longer. It was time to come up with a plan and execute it. “The Hydra base,” you said suddenly. “Alfred, think you and Bucky can reactivate the energy shield?” you asked the AI.

“It should be possible with the raw materials and equipment still located inside the building,” Alfred said quickly.

You nodded, mind spinning. “I’ll take a few drones for backup, but the rest will go with you two. You might need their power cells. I have a feeling the shield might need the extra juice. They can help direct the citizens.”

“The base is on the other side of the crater,” Bucky said quietly. You could hear the frown in his voice and wished fiercely you were down on the ground with him.

“Then figure it out fast, Buck. I don’t think this rock has a down button that can be qualified as gentle in any regard. Need to get the people either as far away as you can as quickly as you can, or get them to that base and pray that Steve, Natalia, the Avengers, and I can do something about this fucking mess.”

There was silence for a moment and you could imagine Bucky glaring daggers at the rock in the sky. “Be careful, Doll,” he said finally, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his emotions.

“You too, Buck. Keep me updated on any major changes, I’ll do the same. Good luck.”

“Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Alfred, you know what to do,” you said, finally emerging from your hiding spot.

“At once, Misses Barnes.”

The first robot didn’t see you coming. You used your talons to dig into the wall close to you, got two steps up it, then vaulted off it and into the air as the bot flew by. You jammed your metal pointer finger into the circuits around its neck and overloaded it with just enough energy. Its red eyes flickered out and a second later it was plummeting to the ground, but you were already jumping off its back and landing a little clumsily on a nearby car. The roof bent inwards under your weight and unyielding metal legs, and you grimaced. “Out of practice,” you muttered begrudgingly.

A repulsor blast just behind you drew your attention and you turned, surprised, but Drone Seattle was simply hovering there, directly over the fried husk of a death bot.

“Nice work, Alfy,” you said with a grin and a little salute as Drones San Diego, Phoenix, Cincinnati, Orlando, Atlanta, New York, and Indianapolis joined it.

“Of course, Madam,” Alfred said in your ear piece.

“Focus on keeping whatever’s controlling these things out of your system, alright? Turn my drones on self automation.”

“Are you sure, Madam? They will not be as coordinated without my help,” Alfred said quietly.

“Yeah, Alfred. Need you focused on helping Buck evacuate the citizens and making sure my own drones don’t shoot me in the back.”

“As you wish, Madam,” Alfred said easily.

“See if you can’t tap into the Avengers' comms. We need to know what they know,” you said as you spotted your next target: a death bot headed straight for a group of people trying to hide inside a nearby building.

Your nano skin was burned to a crisp and eviscerated as your razor sharp wheels slid out and your heel jets powered on to a low roar.

“Pack formation,” you said into your comm. The drones were tapped into your feed so the immediately fell into formation behind with you at the forefront, barreling towards the group of people. The death bot raised his hand to shoot at the people who had nowhere to run, but Atlanta and Cincinnati fired before it could. It spun midair to face you but you were already leaping through the air, splayed hand pulled back and charged with enough electricity to fry it on impact.

Your open hand hit the side of the robot’s head with a loud smack and it convulsed violently for a second as your shock ran through its circuits. You hit the ground before it did, leaving two foot-shaped indents in the road. It clattered to the ground behind you in a heap, wires sparking as the lights of its eyes slowly faded.

The people looked from it to you in fear and you were suddenly thankful most of your features were hidden. If you looked any less human you were sure they would be more afraid of you than the robots.

 _“Find a place to hide. The Avengers are fighting near the town square so the robots are gathering there. Take this with you. It will let you know if the situation changes,”_ you told them as calmly as you could, signaling San Diego to guard the group.

They eyed it warily, but it cheeped happily at them and said _“pleased to meet you! I will try to protect you,”_ in a feminine voice you’d designed to be endearing, and they relaxed ever so slightly. _  
_

_“If you see any others, take them with you. It’s not safe to be out in the streets, especially not alone,”_ you told the older members of the group that weren’t herding children. They nodded in understanding and you felt slightly more at ease.

 _“Thank you,”_ the woman nearest to you said, though her eyes only lingered on you for a moment before they went back to the sky. You didn’t know how to react, so you simply stood as still as a statue, shocked. A second later the people were scurrying away from the busy streets. You hoped they found a safe place to bunker down, but deep down you knew there wasn’t a safe place to hide, not really. Not on this rock floating in the sky.

You continued on the moment they were out of sight, your seven remaining drones trailing dutifully behind you. The low hum of their repulsor engines were, for once, not comforting. The death bots had nearly the same sound to their jets and it made it ever so slightly harder to hear them before you saw them.

“How’s getting into the Avengers’ comms goin’, Alfy?” you asked, strained, as you attempted to fight two bots at once. With the drones distracting them it was relatively easy to dash in and rip them apart with your shocks. They just kept coming, though. Once or twice one of the drones got a solid shot in, stunning the bots long enough to truly dismantle them.

“I believe I have managed to gain access to their communications array, Madam,” Alfred said after a pause.

“Patch us in, but don’t let them hear us. They have to have a plan by now,” you grunted as you ripped a robot’s head from its body and tossed it aside to face the next one.

“I got airborne heading up to the bridge,” a synthesized woman was saying.

There was a distinct sound of Steve getting hit by something and your heart skipped a beat and the world slowed down around you.

“Cap, you got incoming,” you heard Tony say.

“Incoming already came,” Steve said, obviously winded.

You breathed out a sigh of relief you didn’t realize you were holding in and the world began to move around you again.

“Stupid punk,” Bucky said in your ear, obviously annoyed.

But Steve was back on his feet in seconds. “Stark, you worry about bringing the city back down safely. The rest of us have one job: tear these things apart. You get hurt, hurt ‘em back. You get killed…” a pause, where all you could hear were the sounds of chaos around you, “walk it off.”

You couldn’t help but grin viciously at that. “Sounds like my kinda plan,” you said as you threw yourself headlong into a small group of bots.

Bucky _tsked_ in your ear. “Just cause us three managed to do that once don’t mean we should try and do it again. Be careful,” he chastised.

“How are things goin’ down there, Buck?” you asked as you and your drones sliced through a small squad of bots that had been going after a group of people. Once they were safe you signaled Cincinnati to follow them and kept going, working your way around the outskirts of where the Avengers were fighting.

“Slow. People farther away from the rock are making their way out of town in whatever cars they can find. People closer to the city center are skirting around the edges of the crater and heading for the base. If that thing comes down while they’re doin’ that, though, they’ll be in trouble.”

You gritted your teeth as you peeked around a corner and spotted at least ten bots patrolling the long street. “Better hope the rock doesn’t come down too soon, then.”

A small hum of agreement was all you got, but a second later you heard him directing citizens and you turned back to the task at hand.

“What about the wonder twins, Alf? Any sign of them. They could cause some real damage while we’re distracted by these bots.”

A pause, then. “They are helping the Avengers save the people of Sokovia. Additionally, there is another friendly unit on the field, one I am having trouble quantifying.” For the first time since you made him, Alfred sounded downright confused.

“Explain,” you hissed as you rounded the corner. Your drones began firing immediately, giving you enough of a distraction to duck between upturned cars and debris until you were close enough to engage them in hand to hand combat.

“He is humanoid in appearance, but I can detect large quantities of Vibranium in his body and a large source of power in his forehead. The energy readings of the power source are similar to that of the Tesseract and identical to Loki’s scepter.” Another pause, then, “I believe he is an android.”

You frowned. “Not a cyborg? Like me ‘n’ Buck?” you asked breathlessly as you dashed from bot to bot, dodging energy blasts and fists strong enough to take your head off in a single blow.

“I cannot be sure without getting closer, but I do not believe he is like you and the Master,” Alfred said quietly, almost apologetically.

You swore under your breath. “Why do I got the feeling this is somehow Tony’s fault?”

“Maybe it’s the army of death bots that are using his tech?” Bucky said dryly.

You growled your annoyance as you stabbed a bot through the eye socket with your heel spike then crushed its head under your heel. “We’ll answer those questions later. Gotta focus on staying alive and keeping other people alive for now,” you grumbled as reinforcements flew down around you.

“Madam, I hate to interrupt, but there are civilians in distress near the edge that would benefit greatly from-”

“Do it, Alfred,” you said as you began working your way through a new wave of bots. Just how many were created in the short amount of time since the factory started up again? Every second that passed you worried more and more about your decision to not blow the place to hell the moment you saw it up and running again. The desire for information that could possibly be stored there had been too tempting and now an unknown number of people could have paid the price.

Drones Seattle, Atlanta, and Orlando broke away from the rest of the group and flew in different directions towards the edges of the city. Being left with only three drones wasn’t ideal, but other people came first. You, at least, could protect yourself. The citizens of Sokovia weren’t so lucky.

But then a group of fifteen death bots turned the corner and you were sent diving for cover.

“Hey Al?” you said as you ducked behind what you hoped was a very, very solid brick wall.

“Yes, Madam?” Alfred said, sounding almost distracted.

“If you get done with those drones at some point, I could really use ‘em back,” you said, wincing as a barrage of energy blasts pummeled away at your hiding place.

“Doll,” Bucky said testily, obviously aware of what that tone of your voice meant (Trouble. It meant trouble).

You smiled, but it was more of a grimace. “S’ok, Buck. Nothin’ I can’t handle,” you said easily as you closed your eyes and used backscatter to get a look at their numbers. Sixteen bots, all headed for you, and-

You blinked and counted again. Fourteen.

But you were sure there had been sixteen just a second ago, and-

A flash, and the number was suddenly down to thirteen.

“I have company. The speedster, Pietro,” you hissed as yet another bot was wiped off the street. Never before had “ _blink and you’ll miss it_ ” rung so true in your life.

“Stay hidden, Doll. Can’t risk-”

But you were already leaping from cover, heel jets roaring loudly in the narrow street. “Too late,” you said, grimacing, as you rocketed forward as quickly as you could. Even at your fastest you could see a flash as Pietro sped past you, taking out the bots that were turning their arm cannons to shoot at you.

Because they were the only target their censors could pick up, they continued to try and aim at you and were continually thwarted by both you and the speedster.

Eventually, the street was empty except for you and your drones. You were getting tired at this point, face covered in sweat. There was only so much your bastardized serum could do for you, and it seemed you were slowly reaching your limit. You knew you only had about half your power cells left, and at least half of that would probably go to powering your heel jets.

 _“Please put me down,”_ you heard one of your drones chirp. _“I cannot perform my function while you are holding me.”_

You spun and froze as you looked at Pietro, who had Drone Phoenix upside down in his hands, looking at the repulsor jets curiously. He looked up at you, not releasing his hold on the little machine.

[Originally posted by littlemisssyreid](https://tmblr.co/ZU_u7q28vddjE)

_“This design. It is Stark?”_ he asked you curiously and you winced before shaking your head. _“It is yours?”_ he asked, and you nodded tentatively. _“And you’re here to fight the robots?”_ he asked, eyebrow raised warily. You nodded, unsure, trying to ignore Bucky’s fervent warnings of, “Get the hell out of there, Doll,” in your ear.

He turned back to the drone and studied it again for a moment or two before he released it. The drone righted itself immediately and returned to your side, standing sentinel just behind your right shoulder.

He followed it with his eyes then gave you a once over, eyes lingering on where your nano skin had been burned away by your heel jets. His gaze flicked to your eyes and stayed there for a few heartbeats before he nodded, seeming to find whatever he’d been looking for. _“Then that’s good enough for me. Don’t get killed, yeah?”_ he asked with a smirk as he slowly started backing away.

Another nod, which seemed to amuse him, and he was running away in a silver blur.

“He seems nice,” Alfred said a bit too cheerfully in your ear.

“I’m just glad he’s not the enemy anymore,” you muttered, watching trash and debris settle in his wake.

Bucky scoffed. “He and Steve’ll butt heads and you know it.”

You nearly smiled at the thought, but quickly pushed the idea away. Bucky was almost definitely right, but at least the kid would have someone good to look up to and learn from. “Time to get back to work.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokovia climbs higher but neither you nor the Avengers have found a way to stop it without either killing everyone on the floating rock, or everyone down below. That, however, is a a problem left to Steve, Tony, Natasha, and the others. You focus on staying alive, hidden, and saving as many people as you can. Down below, Bucky does the same. How long can your luck hold out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), violence, extreme action featuring a robot-killing cyborg and adorable drones, major character death

##   

“Alright, we’re all clear here,” said a voice over the comms. If you had to guess, it was Hawkeye. He was the only man of the group you didn’t know the voice of by now.

“We are _not_ clear,” Steve said, and you could hear the sounds of combat in the background to corroborate his statement. “We are _very_ not clear!” he said, the sound of screeching metal following a second later.

“Alright, we’re coming to you,” Hawkeye told him.

“They are gathering in the town center, near the other end of the rock,” Alfred informed you.

“How are things looking on this end?” you asked, eyeing the sky warily. You vaulted up on top of one of the lower buildings, hoping to get a look around without being too exposed.

“Activity in this area is nearly nonexistent. It seems the enemy is focusing on trying to kill the Avengers. Still, it seems that a few smaller patrols are in the area, attempting to eliminate any stragglers.”

“So stay in the area to help the people the Avengers can’t get to and hope Steve, Natalia, and the others can take care of things on their end?”

“That is the path most likely to lead to the survival of all remaining citizens, Madam,” Alfred said quietly.

“Are the drones still functioning? Protecting the people and updating them on the situation?” you asked as you looked around the city. Sure enough, you could see bots flying towards the other end of the rock and quickly hopped two stories back down to the ground so they wouldn’t spot you.

“Correct, Madam. I-”

“What do you got, Stark?” Steve asked Tony over the comms, and Alfred quieted instantly so you could hear.

“Huh? Nothing great. Maybe a way to blow up the city,” Tony said quietly. “That’ll keep it from impacting the surface, if you guys can get clear,” he said, though it was clear from his tone what he thought of the idea.

“I asked for a solution, not an escape plan,” Steve said resolutely.

“Impact radius is gettin’ bigger every second. We’re gonna have to make a choice,” Tony said sadly.

“Hear that, Buck?” you murmured softly. He grunted an affirmation, but Steve wasn’t done talking.

“Cap, these people are goin’ nowhere,” Natalia said. She was close enough to Steve that you could hear her through his comm, too. “If Stark finds a way to blow this rock…”

“Not ‘til everyone’s safe,” Steve said obstinately.

“Everyone up here versus everyone down there? There’s no math there,” Natalia said, shocked that she had to spell it out for him.

Bucky suddenly sounded frantic. “I’m coming up there. They’re not gonna blow you to hell. I’m bringing the Batmobile up and-”

“I’m not leavin’ this rock with one civilian on it,” Steve said, cutting off Bucky’s harried planning.

“I didn’t say we should leave,” Natalia said solemnly. A pause, then, “There’s worse ways to go… Where else am I gonna get a view like this?” She sounded resigned and suddenly you wanted to yell at her. Yell at them both. They didn’t give up, not those two. Never those two. It wasn’t in their nature.

“Don’t do it, Doll,” Bucky said quickly, always knowing where your mind would go a split second before you did.

“I gotta, Buck! They’ve given up and-”

“Glad you like the view, Romanoff.” You froze, hardly daring to believe your ears. You knew that voice. “It’s about to get a whole lot better.”

“Alfred?” you asked, shocked, already heading towards where Steve and the majority of the citizens had holed up.

“A SHIELD helicarrier has appeared on the other side of the rock, Madam,” Alfred informed you, sounding nearly indecently pleased.

You fought the urge to throw your arms in the air and cheer. “Coulson and Fury, you sly dogs! Man, I’m so glad we didn’t actually kill him,” you said, grinning widely.

You could hear Bucky’s snort of amusement over the line.

“They have a place to go now,” you heard Bucky say faintly. You could imagine him staring towards the rock in the sky, trying to glimpse it and the helicarrier, which were now dancing in the clouds.

“Alfred, send all remaining drones to search for survivors. Get the drones guarding civilians to lead them to the helicarrier,” you said, skating almost lazily towards the other side now that you had a second to catch your breath and the problem of getting civilians off the floating rock had been solved.  

The comms crackled to life again. “This is SHIELD?” Pietro asked, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“This is what SHIELD is supposed to be,” Steve said. You could imagine the smile on his face in your mind’s eye and a pang of sadness went through you.

“I miss him,” you said quietly.

“Me too,” Bucky said instantly.

“This is not so bad,” Pietro said, and you could imagine the grin on his face, not cocky for once.

“Falcon and War Machine have appeared on the field… or, more accurately, in the sky,” Alfred informed you. “They are protecting the SHIELD helicarrier and the lifeboats ferrying people from the rock to the ship.”

“Got it, Al. How are the citizens doing? Making their way over to the helicarrier okay?” you asked, slowing down a bit and watching your surroundings a little more closely now that you were getting close to the center of all the action.

“Affirmative, Madam. They should rendezvous with the other survivors soon,” Alfred informed you.

“What about you, Buck? It sounds like they’re gonna blow that rock to hell as soon as the people up here are clear. It there’s anyone in the splash zone-”

“Don’t worry, Doll. Alfred and I managed to get the shield reactivated. The drones are busy clearing the last of the people out of the city. A few refused to leave, but most are either on their way away from the city in cars or they’re in the abandoned base, protected by the shield. We’re lucky for once, Hydra had another shield prototype nearby and thanks to Alfred we managed to get it up and running. The extra power from the drones should hopefully protect us from any rocks that manage to make it this far over,” Bucky told you, a hint of pride working its way into his voice.

You nodded, yet another weight rolling off your shoulders. “Good job, Bucky,” you said with a real, honest to goodness smile.

“You too, Doll,” he said fondly.

“I got it!” Tony’s voice came over the comm, interrupting your conversation. “Create a heat seal. I could… I could supercharge the spire from below,” he said, a little frantic.

“Alfred?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“A moment, Madam,” Alfred said quietly. You were close enough to the fight now that you could hear the frantic screams from the citizens and the explosions from the Avengers and the death bots. “It is possible, if they can find enough power,” Alfred said quietly.

“Thor, I got a plan!” Tony said a moment later. You fought back a smirk. Yeah, a lightning blast from the God of Thunder would do the trick.

“We’re out of time, they’re coming for the core!” Thor said, grunting a second later as he presumably fought off a bot or ten.

“Rhodey, Falcon, get the rest of the people onboard that carrier,” Tony said quickly.

“On it,” came what you assumed was War Machine’s voice a split second later.

“Got it,” you heard Falcon echo.

“Avengers, time to work for a living,” Tony said. You saw the red-gold streak of him fly far above your head, towards the center of the rock, and cursed.

“I gotta stay and make sure all the citizens get onboard. Some of them haven’t arrived yet,” you said as Drones Seattle, Orlando, and San Diego joined you again.

“And then you get on one of those lifeboats and you get off that damn rock,” Bucky said sternly.

“Nah, I like it up here. Very comfortable, super easy to breathe. Prime real estate, perfect view,” you said dryly.

“(Y/N),” Bucky said testily.

“All of the remaining active robots have moved towards the center of the rock. Or, more accurately, towards the Vibranium core holding the rock together,” Alfred chirped.

“The robots want to drop it early,” you said, eyes widening in horror. “They don’t care if it’s high enough yet. They’re content to wipe billions of people from the face of the earth rather than let the Avengers stop it.”

“It would seem so,” Alfred said gravely.

“They’re trying to leave the city!” Thor said suddenly, drawing your attention.

“Shit,” you swore, running up the nearest building to get a better view of the robots’ path of egress. Sure enough, a veritable wave of death bots was headed towards the edges of the city.

“Can’t let ‘em, not even one. Rhodey,” Tony said urgently.

“Sam,” Steve said, just as tense.

“I’m on it!” Rhodey said. You could hear his thrusters strain to push him faster towards the largest pack of bots.

“Got eyes on ‘em,” Sam said. You could see the sun glint off his wings as he streaked towards the other escaping mass.

“Alfred, all drones not currently helping citizens, now,” you said, panicked. Tony was right. If even one of them managed to make it out of this alive, this fight wouldn’t be over.

“Understood.” Immediately, all of the drones that had been around you shot off in every direction, jets propelling them at maximum speed through the air. You hopped back off the building and ran as quickly as you could towards the area the lifeboats were docking at, hoping against hope that they’d finish loading before the Avengers blew the rock to pieces. “Tony Stark has flown to the bottom of the city. According to my calculations his suit should be low on energy after the extended fight,” Alfred said after a minute or so.

“He’s creating the heat seal,” you guessed, looking around the area for any stragglers while doggedly staying out of sight of the SHIELD personnel and any stray Avengers.

“That is likely, yes,” Alfred agreed.

“Does he have enough power to do it?” you asked, frowning. You used backscatter and managed to spot a few people still hiding and quickly ran over to them. One was trapped under a fallen slab of concrete and it took every ounce of your strength to lift it so the young woman could wiggle out from under it. Someone- probably her husband by the looks of it- thanked you profusely as he picked her up and carried her towards the lifeboats.

“Unknown,” Alfred said dubiously.

“Send him a drone. Let him drain it. That heat seal has to work or-” you bit your lip and didn’t let your thoughts go that way. “It just has to work.”

“Of course, Madam. Drone Indianapolis is on its way.”

“As soon as it gives Tony what’s left of its battery, let it drop and activate self destruct once it’s far enough away, okay? I don’t want Tony getting his hands on it. He’s too smart for his own good.”

“Of course, Mistress Barnes.” A pause, then, “Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff, Thor, and Agent Barton are moving this direction. I recommend moving with care,” Alfred warned.

“Got it. Thanks, Al,” you said, moving near silently through the streets, looking for any last minute stragglers. You didn’t want to leave anyone behind. To get a better look, you jumped up on the nearest building, backscatter letting you scan everything nearby for signs of people.

“Incoming,” was the only warning Alfred could give before a quinjet raced by overhead, firing on the city square, not even a block away. Even a split second glance at the cockpit told you the pilot wasn’t human. In was the largest of the robots, similar to the one that scared you so violently last night.

“It’s firing on the civilians,” you breathed, already rocketing towards the jet. The sound of gunfire couldn’t quite block out the roar of rage from the Hulk, though.

 _Steve and Natalia are there,_ a small part of your mind screamed at you.

You built up as much speed as you could, grateful that the robot had stopped midair to concentrate fire on a single spot.

You ran out of roof to run on, but you’d already jumped, leg outstretched as you soared through the air, aiming right for the machine gun attached to the bottom of the plane.

The time in the air felt like a small eternity. You could barely hear your heel jets as they propelled you just that hair farther and faster.

Your foot connected to the gun with and almighty screech of metal, the force of the hit tearing it from the retractable arm that attached it to the plane.

You had a single moment of victorious elation. You did it. You stopped the robot from firing on civilians. On Natalia and Steve.

And then you were falling.

“Oh, shit,” you breathed, stomach swooping uncomfortably as gravity took effect on your body once more. Now, with the added weight of the huge gun clenched in your talons, you were hurtling sixty feet towards the ground. If you were unlucky, your momentum would carry you too far and over the edge, and then you’d be falling much, much farther.

“(Y/N)?!” Bucky yelled over the comm, alarmed.

“Fuck, oh fuck!” you gasped, trying your best to flick the gun off your foot. If you landed with it still attached you sure as hell wouldn’t survive. Hell, even without it you might still not survive.

It slid off your talons, but the ground was getting uncomfortably close, and-

A pair of arms caught you and you blinked, confused for a second. There hadn’t been anyone under you a second ago, and-

 _“What, you think you’re the only one allowed to be a big damn hero?”_ said a playful voice. He shifted and, with the sun behind his head and the immediate danger of ending up a pancake (again) passed, you were able to get a good look at him.

Pietro Maximoff was smirking down at you.

 _“You think you can stand?”_ he asked, giving you an appraising stare.

You nodded numbly. Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered Hawkeye carrying a kid towards the lifeboat, giving you and Pietro a confused stare as he went.

 _Oh, that’s good. They’re alive,_ your mind supplied, still racing from the adrenaline.

 _“You don’t talk much, do you?”_ he asked playfully as he set you down, hands hovering to catch you if you faltered.

You shook your head. If you talked, then they’d hear you over the comms and you knew your voice modulator had been damaged in the fight, and-

“(Y/N).”

You froze, mind coming to a complete stop.

Pietro turned around to look at Steve, brow furrowing in confusion. “You know her? She has not said a word to me,” Pietro said in thickly accented English, sounding just a little bit offended.

But Steve might not have heard him, judging by the way he didn’t even look at Pietro. He was staring at you and you knew, even with the nanoskin and mask hiding your features, that he knew it was you.

You had, after all, just used your cyborg legs to take down a quinjet gun.

“(Y/N)? Was that Steve!? (Y/N), you have to get out of there!” Bucky hissed urgently in your ear.

Where were you supposed to go? On the lifeboat with Steve and the others? To SHIELD, who you knew wanted to take you in?

“(Y/N), please. I can see that look in your eyes. You’re looking for a way out. You don’t have to. Please, Natasha, Sam, and I have been searching and-”

“Jump, Doll,” Bucky said, snapping you from your quickly spiraling thoughts.

“What?” you breathed, shocked.

“We have arrived,” Alfred said.

Steve thought you were talking to him and he took a small step forward, still hesitant, looking at you like you were about to run away any second. “It’s alright. We want to help. Natalia and I. Sam, too. Please let us help,” he said, smile strained.

“Jump. We’re waiting right below. We’ll catch you, I promise,” Bucky whispered.

You turned your nano-disguised eyes on Steve. “We have to go. Now. All civilians are onboard.”

Steve looked wary, but nodded.

Pietro gave the two of you one last glance before he flashed away towards the center of town.

Steve watched you for a moment but when it was clear you weren’t going to move before him, he gave you a tentative smile and turned his back.

And the moment his blue eyes weren’t on you, you powered on your heel jets and flew off the side of the rock.

“(Y/N)! No!” Steve yelled, not fast enough to catch up with you before you were off the edge. For the second time in five minutes you felt the horrible feeling of your stomach flying up into your throat. Below you was a fluffy expanse of cloud… and a single flying black car. It moved the second you were jumping. You knew Alfred was adjusting the position based on your trajectory and a second later you were landing heavily on the hood, wincing as your toe talons made four large gouges in the paint in an attempt to hold onto the smooth metal.

A split second later Bucky was pulling you into the car, and, just before you got tugged inside, you glanced up. With your enhanced eyes you could see the look of shock, hurt, and longing on Steve’s face, clear as day.

Then you were in Bucky’s arms, the site of the floating city completely blocked out by the hood of the car.

“Go. Go go go. Or he’s gonna jump after us,” you hissed, and not even a second later the engines throttled you forward at full speed, at a slight angle so that you’d slowly make your way back down to the ground.

“Please tell me the cloaking works,” you said, throwing worried glances out the window for any sign of Falcon, War Machine, or Iron Man (or, god forbid, _Steve_ ).

“I’m afraid cloaking has not been successful yet, Madam,” Alfred informed you.

“Then just drive, Al. Fast as you can away from this place.”

“Yes, Madam,” he said amicably.

You finally turned your attention on Bucky, who hadn’t let go of you since he first got his hands on you.

You looked away almost immediately again. He looked pissed.

“You’re angry,” you said, staring determinedly at the rapidly-approaching cloud cover.

“Yes.”

“Because I almost got caught,” you said quietly.

His grip on your sagged, which made you look at him, surprised. His grey-blue eyes were sadder than you could recall seeing them in recent memory. “No, Doll. I’m angry because you almost got yourself killed,” he said softly.

You grimaced and buried your face in his chest. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I couldn’t help it. They were attacking people and then that super death robot almost hurt Natasha and Steve and their friends and I just-” you bit the excuses off and wrapped your arms around him, giving him a tight squeeze.

Bucky stayed quiet for a minute, but he held you close and buried his nose in your hair, taking a second to reaffirm that you were there, safe, with him. “Next time an army of evil robots attacks we’re not splitting up,” he said testily, the effect somewhat ruined by the way he pressed feather-light kisses to your temple.

You looked up at him, tentative smile on your face. “Deal, Buck.”

You watched the video feed from the Batmobile, wincing as giant rocks pummeled the town of Novi Grad. The last thing that Bucky had done before coming to get you was piling all of the pilfered research into the hood and back seat of the Batmobile along with your portable workspace, but everything else would be lost to the damage.

You had a few of your drones keeping a lookout on the area. The shield around the old Hydra base seemed to be holding out, but the town had no protection and areas of it were reduced to rubble in seconds. A significant portion of the rocks landed in the lake, but not enough to spare the town. You watched with bated breath as Tony weaved between giant chunks of debris. You and Bucky both breathed easier when he made it out of the worst of the debris field, nearly missing Thor falling into the water in the process. It was a bit longer than you would have liked, but eventually the Asgardian flew out of the water, hammer leading the way.

Eventually, the sky cleared, and the sun shone through the hole in the clouds, onto the destroyed city of Novi Grad. Even some buildings on the edge of town hadn’t been spared the destruction and you were thankful Bucky (with the help of your drones) had decided to evacuate the entire city.

A flash of light at the edge of the crater drew your attention and the closest drone was already zooming in on the source.

The red man- the man that Alfred was fairly sure was an android- was standing near what had to be the last of the death bots, reduced to a melted heap of scrap.

You finally waved the screens off, letting the view of the rapidly-passing surroundings appear once more. You shifted in Bucky’s lap, eyes drifting closed.

“We did it,” you said quietly, a small smile on your face.

“We had a little help,” Bucky said quietly and even without looking you could tell he was smiling a bit, too.

“Feels good,” you admitted softly. “Helpin’ people,” you clarified needlessly.

“Mm.” An affirmative hum that you felt vibrate in his chest.

“Need to find a new place to live for a while,” you said tiredly. Fighting as hard as you did today had taken a lot out of you. You didn’t have the stamina that Bucky did.

“Me an' Al will take care of that. Get some sleep, alright?” he said gently, placing a tender kiss to your hair.

“Good idea,” you mumbled, already halfway unconscious.

**Bucky’s POV**

Eventually your breathing evened out and you relaxed against him and Bucky couldn’t help but smile down at you. He’d nearly lost you again today, but it seemed that after seventy years of bad luck the two of you had finally found some good fortune. Either that or someone else’s good fortune outweighed your terrible ones.

“Where would you like to go, Master Barnes?” Alfred asked quietly so as to not wake you.

Bucky mulled it over for a bit, thinking. The Batmobile’s flight systems only lasted an hour at most and, now that Natasha, Steve, and Wilson knew you were in Europe, they’d search high and low for signs of you. It’d be too risky to go back to the boat. They’d likely expect you to run far away as soon as possible, likely by plane.

Somewhere close. Ideally a place not monitored too closely like the huge world powers tended to be.

“Bucharest, Romania,” he said finally. He was ninety percent sure he knew Romanian, though languages didn’t always come easily until he was thrown headfirst into them. Not to mention you’d talked about that bar (which was really more of a black market or speakeasy) in the city that catered to… well, people like you and him.

Well, not exactly like you two. No one was exactly like you two.

“Confirmed. Plotting a course now. I recommend changing the Batmobile’s exterior soon after a base is established, as it is likely all of SHIELD and the Avengers know what to look for now.”

Bucky sighed, already having thought about it. If the Batmobile wasn’t so useful (and your pride and joy) he would have already ditched it. “Got it, pal. Let me know when we’re getting close?” he murmured.

“I will, sir. Shall I wake you if either of you exhibits the symptoms of night terrors?” Alfred asked kindly.

Bucky nodded his head. “Please, Alfred. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Master Barnes. Enjoy your nap.”

Bucky was asleep within five minutes, lulled to sleep by the dull roar of the engines and your even breathing.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past comes back to haunt you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), mentions of death, blood, violence, wounds, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, survivor’s guilt******

[Originally posted by pluviobrew](https://tmblr.co/ZD74Rj28GY9AK)

You moved the thick gardening glove down your wrist and glanced at your watch, trying your best to look inconspicuous as the guards passed. 

10:19 am.

One minute until you had to make your way over to the small van with a wide arrangement of gardening tools… along with reinforced armor-plated sides, a silent, electric engine, and enough room for three people.

You clipped carefully at what you’d learned was a blueberry bush, humming a German tune that you actually did enjoy, and placed the clippings into the basket beside you. The guards paid you no mind, of course. You were a woman; a gardener. They had automatic weapons and you had slightly dull shears. 

At 10:20 you stood and slowly moseyed over to your van, giving the guards a polite incline of your head and tentative smile as you passed. They eyed you and you had to fight back the urge to gag. There was no way to tell exactly what expression they held behind those soulless black masks, but if their body language was anything to go by it was in the vein of _interest_. 

The basket got thrown somewhat carelessly into the back, the doors to which you left wide open. You walked over to the driver’s side door and hopped into the driver’s seat, trying your best to not fidget nervously as you turned the silent van on and waited. 

You didn’t have to wait long.

There was a commotion on the other side of the sprawling property and the guards that had been stationed nearby were gone in a flash, running towards the source of the noise. 

You bit your lip and gripped tightly at the steering wheel, nearly yelping in surprise when Peggy and Erskine jumped into the back of van and slammed the doors. 

“Go go go!” Peggy yelled, but you were already rocketing forward, towards the front gates of Johann Schmidt’s private estate. The bastard wasn’t home, of course. You and Peggy had made sure of that. 

The man you were rescuing- Abraham Erskine- looked gaunt and pale, which was no surprise. He’d been held by Schmidt for the better part of five years, being slowly starved to death and occasionally tortured. For her part, Peggy looked unfairly good in frumpy maid’s clothing that (despite your best efforts) hadn’t been able to hide her beauty. 

“Look out!” Erskine yelled in thickly accented English, but you were already barreling ever faster towards the thick metal gate at the front of the property. 

The van crashed through the wrought iron as though it was made of paper and the bullets of the guards’ guns might have been missing completely for all the damage they did. 

“We did it!” you whooped from the front seat as you careened dangerously down the country road. 

You could hear Peggy’s sly smile when she spoke, but you were too busy trying to make sure the three of you didn’t end up in a ditch to turn and look at her. “Not yet, we haven’t. We still need to make the rendezvous.” That made you grin and push your van just that slightest bit faster, adrenaline running through your veins. “Are you hurt, Doctor Erskine?” 

The answering gasp made your blood run cold. 

You knew that gasp; the shaky exhale that followed.

The van’s tires dug deep furrows into the ground as you slammed on the breaks, gravel flying in every direction. You spun in your seat, horror only growing at the sight behind you.

Erskine was bleeding out in Peggy’s arms, one gunshot straight to the gut, one to the chest.

He was _bleeding_. There was so much blood. Too much blood. It filled the bottom of the van until it came up to your ankles. 

“You didn’t save me,” he gasped, bloody bubbles running down his chin. 

“Abe! No! This isn’t- I wanted to save you- I tried- Please, Abraham! No!” you cried, crawling into the back of the van and kneeling down in the pool of blood. Its warm wetness seeped through your pants immediately, but you didn’t care. Abraham was _dying_. 

“You are _evil_ ,” he spat, and the blood splattered against your face. “Not even human. Steve Rogers should have killed you when he had the chance.” The hatred in his eyes had you scrambling back, scared. He was wrong! You were human! You grew up in New York! You liked machines and hated Nazis and-

“Почему ты расстроена, мама?” You froze as you backed up against someone, but you knew who it would be without looking. You turned anyway, seemingly unable to control your own body. A young Natalia stared down at you with eyes that were hers, but not. They were harder and colder than you’d ever seen, filled with condescension and hatred. It was the way she looked at an obstacle or an enemy. “Почему ты грустишь? Вы выполнили свою миссию. Доктор мертв.“ She asked with a feral smile that made your skin crawl. 

“Нет! Нет, я не хотел этого! Он мой друг!” you gasped, bringing your legs up to your chest, curling into yourself. 

But you froze when your hands touched cold, unyielding metal.

A scream crawled its way up your throat and you tried to scramble away from the pieces of metal, but they were attached to you; no, the metal _was_ you. Your legs. Your fingers. A hand shot out and froze you in your tracks. Where Abraham and Peggy had been Howard Stark now laid, as young as he was the day you’d met him. His hand was broken, bones at odd angles and sticking out from his skin grotesquely. Pieces of glass were embedded into his purpling skin. 

You didn’t know how you could recognize him. His face was smashed in until it was a pulpy mass with two dark brown, blood-eclipsed eyes staring piercingly at you. 

“You killed me,” he whispered, though it sounded so loud to you that you had to throw your hands over your ears. 

“No, please! Howard! I didn’t mean to. Please, please, _please_ , stop. I couldn’t stop myself,” you pleaded, eyes shut tight against the horrible sight of Howard’s disfigured face and broken limbs. 

“You looked right at me. I said your name. And then you bludgeoned me to death,” he spat accusingly, and you mashed your hands even tighter over your ears. 

“God, this isn’t real. This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real!” you grit out through gnashing teeth. “This is a nightmare and-”

“Wovon redest du, fräulein? Das ist dein Leben, (Y/N).” 

The sound of Zola’s nasally voice had you careening forward into the pool of blood, not caring that it covered half of your face. You didn’t dare open your eyes and see him. 

“Ich habe dich zu einem Monster gemacht,” he said, sickly sweet. It was the same voice he used when talking about successful experiments. “Ja das ist richtig. Das ist alles was du bist. Eine Waffe. Meine Waffe.“

“Nein! Ich bin nicht das, was du mich gemacht hast!” you screamed, metal fingers digging painfully into your skin. 

“Is that why you killed me?” Mary Douglas asked. Even after all this time you knew her voice. It was the voice that haunted you more often than any of the others, except, perhaps, Howard’s. 

You finally lifted your gaze, eyes wide and horrified. The skin of Mary’s face was burned and bubbling, a visage that would haunt even the most stalwart souls. Did she look that horrible after you’d killed her? You couldn’t even remember sometimes. You’d only seen her for a split second before Bucky had turned you away. Perhaps your remembered version was worse than the real thing, but there’d be no real way to ever know. 

“You say you’re not a monster, but that didn’t stop you from killin’ me when you weren’t under their control. You’re broken, child, an’ nothin’ can fix you. All you’re good for now is killin’,” Mary said, speaking through cracked, warped lips. 

“No! No no no please god no make it stop!” you screeched, tearing at your own face. Maybe if you died the voices would stop and-

“(Y/N)!” 

“No, god no. Not you too, Buck,” you whimpered, tearing at your hair. _Make it stop make it stop make it stop-_

“You’re the reason why he’s alive and suffering,” a terrible, vengeful image of Pierce spat, staring at you like you were less than dirt. His guts were spilling into the pool of blood.

“(Y/N)! Please, wake up!” 

“Wenn nicht für dich, hätte ich ihn nicht machen können,” Zola said malevolently, with your faceless, black-masked torturer behind him. “Es ist alles deine Schuld.“

“Baby, please. You gotta wake up.” He sounded frantic now. Why was he telling you to wake up? This was reality, after all. It was condensed suffering, dozens of people closing in on you in a landscape devoid of anything else except bodies and the blood that was slowly rising higher. Up to your knees, your waist, your chest-

“You’re the reason why SHIELD fell. I wish I had never met you.” Peggy stared down her nose at you, sneering beautifully. 

“Baby, please. Wake up. Wake up!” 

The world shook violently and your eyes opened to a too-bright room. You were already falling forward, out of bed, away from Bucky, and onto the hard ground of the room you were renting.

You vomited onto the worn wood, not caring that it got in your hair or on your hands. Your chest heaved as you breathed in startlingly cold breaths, the stench of vomit not overpowering the relief of no longer scenting the irony tang of blood in the air. 

But you couldn’t relax, not when there were so many threats out there. Hydra. The KGB. SHIELD. The Avengers. The countless ghosts that were assuredly after your soul. 

Bucky was by your side in an instant, running a big hand down your back, voice low and soothing as he spoke. “It’s alright, (Y/N). You’re here, with me. We’re in Bucharest, Romania. It’s 2015. They don’t know where we are. We’ve built a safe house for ourselves. Breathe, Baby. Just breathe,” he whispered, knowing not to move closer until you made some sort of sign that you’d understood what he’d said. 

“It’s 2015,” you gasped, metal nails scratching grooves into the wooden floor as you clenched your hands into a fist. “Hydra doesn’t have us. The KGB doesn’t have us. We’re hiding.” You said the words like a mantra, letting them ground you. 

“That’s right, Doll,” Bucky confirmed, letting himself get a little bit closer to tug your hair from your face. If he minded the vomit, he didn’t said anything. It wasn’t like this was the first time for either of you. 

You sucked in a breath, and tried to release it slowly, evenly… but it came out as a shuttering sob. Bucky echoed the wounded noise softly and pulled you to him, his warm, soft human hand guiding your face gently to his neck. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks and onto his shoulder, staining his light grey shirt in little droplets. You gritted your teeth against the wracking sobs, but that didn’t stop the pathetic noises from slipping through, nor did it stop the way your entire body shook. You knew, distantly, that Bucky was picking you up and carrying you through the tiny apartment, but you were still surprised when the first jet of cool water poured over your back, soaking your hair and clothing in an instant.

It wasn’t icy, but was still cold enough to not be mistaken for the pool of blood that haunted your dreams. The bathroom came into focus around you, its off-white walls and dingy lights comforting in a way they had no right to be.

You perched your chin on his shoulder and closed your eyes, letting the water flow over you skin, the effect calming you in a way his touch alone couldn’t. 

“D’ya wanna talk about it?” 

A hummed, dismissive response was the only reply you had the wherewithal to give at the moment. You could feel more than see him nod in acknowledgment and a sound of protest left your lips when he moved too much, but a second later a toothbrush and toothpaste were in front of your face. It was a sign of how out of it you were that you had trouble focusing on them.

Wordlessly you took them, though you paused to nudge his shoulder gently with your forehead, a small sign of thanks and affection that you couldn’t form the words to right then. 

“Do ya wanna watch Tangled after this?” he asked quietly, lips brushing against your now sopping wet hair.

You hummed a small affirmative as you began brushing your teeth dutifully (Bucky knew it was the first thing you liked to do after episodes; it was hard to get past them when there was such a horrid physical reminder of what had happened). Of all the newer Disney movies you liked that one the best so far. There were others, but between saving half the world and avoiding what felt like the other half of the world, you hadn’t yet found the time to watch them all. They were an escape, and a welcome one at that. 

“Time?” you murmured after you spat out the toothpaste and rinsed your mouth out with the bottle of water Bucky handed you (you needed to fix the pipes in this damned hellhole… or maybe just set up a water filtration system). 

“Just after 2 am,” he answered immediately, voice still slow and soothing. 

You frowned. Maybe you’d be able to fall back asleep during Tangled, but it was unlikely Bucky would be able to, not after your episode. You bit your tongue on the apology you wanted to give him, knowing it wasn’t fair to either of you to apologize for something you couldn’t control. 

Instead, you turned the water up to a less offensive temperature (it was starting to get too cold for you at this point) and shuffled until your back was against Bucky’s. Taking the hint, he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned back against the tub, pulling you with him. Using your foot, you hit the knob that turned the shower head off, eyes opening a little wider now that you knew you wouldn’t be constantly bombarded by tiny droplets of water. With equal ease you popped the plug into the drain, eyeing it dubiously for a moment until you were sure it was actually stopping the water from escaping into the sewer. 

“Alfred, could you bring the tablet?” you asked the air, knowing that the AI would hear you even though you could barely hear yourself above the sound of the water. 

“Of course, Mistress Barnes,” one of the drones said dutifully, already floating into the bathroom with the largest of the tablets trapped between the claws of its little metal arms. You had a feeling the AI had been ready and waiting for you to ask.

“Thanks Al,” Bucky said as he took the tablet from Drone Anchorage. 

“It was my pleasure, Master Barnes. Please enjoy the movie.” 

You eyed the tablet and, sure enough, Tangled was already queued up and ready to go. Bucky huffed a single laugh and even you felt a tiny smile tilt a corner of your lips up. You tilted your knees up and Bucky set the tablet on your lap, knowing full well you made all of your tech waterproof (well, almost all of it, but Bucky knew very, very well which inventions were water-safe and which ones weren’t). 

You tapped play and, almost instantly, your heart felt a little lighter at the sound of Eugene’s voice starting the introduction.

When the tub was full enough you turned the faucet off and practically melted into Bucky’s chest, tension finally leaving you in some measurable way. 

“Hey Buck?” you whispered as the scene switched to Eugene stealing the crown. 

“Yeah Doll?” he murmured, arms squeezing you ever so gently. 

“Love you,” you answered, eyes not leaving the screen.

Bucky merely placed a gentle kiss to the back of your head and muttered a quiet but heartfelt “Love you, too,” and you finally let yourself get lost for a while. 

* * *

By the time you woke up again you were back on the small mattress you shared with Bucky, dry and in new clothes. You reached out blindly for your husband, already suspecting he wasn’t there by the lack of dipping in the old, worn out springs. Sure enough, the sheets were cold, but you kept looking anyway, right until your hand reached the edge of the mattress. With a groan you shoved your face back into the pillow, unwilling to face the day. Days after an episode were especially tough and you considered it a blessing that you managed to wake up knowing what year it was and where you were.

“Bucky? Где ты?” you mumbled, trusting in his enhanced hearing to pick up your voice even through the walls. The apartment was tiny; only two small rooms. Nearly everything was in the first room- the one you were in now- with all of your important scientific research and the workshop in the other. 

“Какие? Не могли бы даже потрогать ваши глаза?” came a quiet, gentle voice directly to your right. 

Tension left your muscles after a second, your body relaxing when you realized he was watching your back both metaphorically and literally.

“Я не знаю, как вы можете быть комфортно на этой кушетке. Это ужасно,” you muttered as you shuffled around, finally opening your eyes to look up at him. He was reading the paper and you could just barely see his bright blue eyes over the top of it. If you weren’t mistaken, they were distinctly amused. You realized you were likely an unsightly heap, strewn out lackadaisically on the bed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Ты тот, кто спас его от корзины,” he countered. 

You frowned, features coming uncomfortably close to a pout. Genius engineers and deadly assassins didn’t pout, though. Then, it hit you. “Shit,” you hissed as you grabbed the pillow and shoved it into your face. “I’ve been talking in Russian.” 

“Да,” he said dryly. You chucked the pillow blindly at him, wincing as it veered violently to the right… and straight into the sink.

Bucky lowered the paper slowly and leveled a flat, unimpressed stair at you, but you were already rolling away from his accusing stare. You could practically feel his gaze boring into your back, but you valiantly ignored him until you heard the paper rustle again. 

You let yourself lay there for a while, mind wandering as you attempted to sort your jumbled thoughts. The nightmare from hours before still lingered in grisly flashes, destroying any urge you had to leave the bed and be productive. You’d manage it eventually, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to get up just yet.

“What are we doin’, Buck?” you whispered, not thinking about your question until it was already hanging in the air between you.

A pause, then the sound of the paper being folded haphazardly. “We’re hiding. Doing what we can to stay away from other people. You’re sending tips to the new SHIELD to help them clean up unsavory folks and the remnants of Hydra. We-”

You rolled over to look at him, the sad smile on your face making him freeze mid sentence. “You know what I mean, Bucky…” you whispered softly. 

He looked away, blue eyes trained on a random spot on the floor. “Dunno what you mean, Doll,” he said quietly, with just a hint of obstinance. He didn’t like this conversation, mostly because you ended up talking each other in circles for hours. You both felt horribly guilty over what you’d personally done, but neither of you would let the other turn themselves in. 

You tried a new path of thought today. “Stevie’s friend. Anthony Stark.” 

Even though Bucky still refused to look at you, you could see the way the name affected him in how his jaw tightened and his gaze turned stormy. 

“Steve will figure it out soon if he hasn’t already. And you know-”

“He won’t tell him, yeah. I know,” Bucky said bitterly. 

“Tony isn’t stupid either, from what I can tell. He’ll… probably figure it out eventually, too. Natalia and Steve will probably try to keep it from him, though.”

Bucky’s frown only deepened. “That’ll only be a problem if we insert ourselves in their lives again,” he said tersely. 

You sighed, heart constricting painfully. “He was my friend, Buck. _Our_ friend. And we killed ‘im.” 

Bucky’s gaze turned up sharply, though you could tell he was hurting too by the way his gaze softened ever so slightly as he looked at you. “And what? We say ‘sorry we killed your mom and dad’ and hope he doesn’t blow us to bits with his suit? Worse, we hope he _does_?” 

You flinched at the implication. 

… No, that he’d seen through your words and intentions so clearly as he always did. “We’d deserve it,” you muttered so quietly you almost thought he wouldn’t hear. 

But his eyes flashed with anger and fear and he was off the couch and in front of you in a flash. You were in his arms before you could mutter even the smallest protest, your face jammed into his broad chest. 

“We did a lot of messed up things, Doll. I know we did. I don’t think we’ll ever really escape that shadow… but if you think I’m ever letting you go again, you’re wrong,” he breathed, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

Your arms went around his waist, but you couldn’t help the feeling of dread swirling low in your gut. “Someone’s gotta answer for what we did, Buck…” you muttered, voice muffled by his chest.

He squeezed you gently. “They did. They _are_. Steve and Natalia killed most of the rats and we got rid of what they missed. Only pieces remaining are the roaches that barely have enough power to pry themselves out of their destroyed, moldering ruins of an empire.” 

You frowned and bit your lip. This was how the conversation usually went, though the lines sometimes were swapped, with you talking Bucky out of anything rash. It still felt wrong, though- to not say anything. 

Knowing you were at yet another impasse, you let the subject drop. “Gotta go to the club later, pawn off some of my designs. You feel like goin’ with me?” you asked, peeking hesitantly up at him.

He stared at you, gaze assessing, for what felt like a small eternity, but eventually he nodded. “What kinda guy would I be if I let my gal go to a fancy club all alone after just sayin’ I’d never let her go?” he asked. The lightness he was trying for fell just a bit flat to both of your dour moods.

You leaned up and pecked him on the cheek anyway. “Thanks, Buck. Radcliffe always pays well for my blueprints and prototypes.” 

Bucky finally released you, watching you from the floor with wary eyes as you stood and headed to the bedroom. “Where’s all this money going to, anyways?” he asked with a frown.

You leaned back around the corner, surprise lining your features. “I didn’t tell you?” you asked, confused. 

He shook his head, amusement returning some of the light to his eyes. “You get lost in your own head too much, y’know. Wouldn’t be surprised if you have whole one-sided conversations in there,” he teased gently. He… wasn’t wrong, and you fought the childish urge to stick your tongue out at him.

Your smile was a little sad. “Sokovian relief efforts.”

Bucky’s smile was melancholy, too, the destruction of the city a fresh horror in his mind, along with the fear of losing you. Again. 

“That’s… that’s good,” he said finally, looking up at you with what could only be adoration. 

Your smile turned a little lighter- a little more genuine- and you nodded. “Yeah. I think so, too.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You visit an old, dangerous person, knowing full well that you might not come out of the confrontation alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), mentions of: past torture, death, blood, weapons. Allusions to PTSD.  
> A/N: Not dead, I promise. Finally out of school, though.

[Originally posted by ofallingstar](https://tmblr.co/Zs26mu2QR7wrf)

Bucky was quiet next to you as you walked down the street. He hadn’t talked since you got on the boat to Japan, having long since realized there wasn’t a point in trying to talk you out of your latest endeavor. 

Not that you blamed him. Your idea would almost definitely end with you and Bucky being killed or heavily wounded. Still, your conscience didn’t let you sit still after what you’d remembered a few days ago. 

_A small clearing. Cherry trees blossoming, petals bright even in the gloom of early night. Blood seeping into cherry wood floors. Two smiling faces looking up at you in black and white. Flashing claws of bone. Bucky’s pained groan and steely gaze._

Between the tiny glimpses and uneasy feeling in your gut you’d long suspected you’d done something as the Soldiers, but then you’d woken up in a cold sweat a few weeks ago and told Bucky everything you could before your mind lost the memories again.

The next two weeks had been spent yelling and fighting and eventually you put your foot down, saying you were going to apologize to Logan face to face, regardless of the possible outcomes (most of which, if you were being honest with yourself, entailed ending up in a pool of your own blood). 

Bucky twitched as someone turned onto the small street you were walking down, jarring you back into the present. The area was so low-tech that you hadn’t bothered with the nano skin, relying on clothes and sunglasses to keep your enhancements hidden. You had a sinking feeling that trying to hide your true identities would only incense Logan further, and you needed every advantage you could get if you wanted more than a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out. 

You reached out for Bucky’s hand nearly without thinking, the action subconscious at this point. 

“Why’s he gotta live in the middle of nowhere?” Bucky muttered as soon as the civilian was out of earshot. He was still as annoyed about the whole affair as he had been the entire last two days. 

You glanced at Bucky for only a second then quickly returned to scanning the area for threats. “Can you really imagine Logan living in the middle of a busy city?” you asked quietly. Bucky only huffed out an annoyed sigh but all that did was make your lips quirk up in a smirk. “‘Sides, this works out better for us anyway.” 

“We stick out like sore thumbs,” Bucky countered, annoyance clear as day in his tone. 

You shrugged, gently jostling your intertwined hands. “Maybe. I figure an area as pretty as this gets tourists, even if it is a bit rural.” 

Bucky’s steel blue eyes finally turned on you, disbelief barely noticeable in the set of his jaw and the lines around his eyes. “They don’t even have electricity out here, Doll.”

You bit back a smirk. “That’s why it took us so long to find ‘im, though. Maybe he’s got the right idea.”

“You’d go insane within the week,” Bucky said flatly, obviously guessing where you were going with that line of thought. 

You fought the urge to pout and gently nudged him with your shoulder instead. “Not if I set up next to a river and made a hydro-electric dam for myself. Or finally finished my portable nuclear reactor.”

Bucky’s gaze turned worried and perhaps a shade frantic. “Please don’t do either of those things. I’m beggin’ ya.” 

The Brooklyn accent slipped in whenever you caught him off guard and you couldn’t help but smile whenever it returned with a vengeance like that. “Fine, fine. This is our turn, anyhow. Gotta be on alert now.”

Bucky’s face turned stony again and you missed the light in his eyes that had been there just a moment ago as he stared down the narrow dirt road. He was nervous, but you knew his fear wasn’t for his own well being. It was reserved for you. 

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze which he returned. In perfect synchronization you both stepped forward and began walking down the road. 

The farther you walked, the jumpier you and Bucky became. Even with your backscatter vision and Bucky’s enhanced hearing you were loath to underestimate the short, angry man. 

The cabin came into vision without incident, though, and a quick backscatter peek inside told you he wasn’t home. 

You stopped at the edge of the clearing, skin prickling uncomfortably as your scattered memories overlaid with the present. The house that Logan had built was eerily similar to the one he’d shared with his wife ( _Itsu. Japanese. Married Logan in 1946. _Skilled swordswoman._ Pregnant. Clean kill; slash to the throat and stomach. Weapon: Katana._ ). 

You shook the clinical thoughts from your head and tugged Bucky to a stop. He looked down at you warily. “Not here,” you said, answering his unasked question. He nodded, but didn’t relax at all. 

“How long do we wait?” he asked eyes darting around the clearing. 

You frowned and tried to ground yourself more firmly in the present by leaning against Bucky, who stilled marginally at the contact. “As long as it takes,” you whispered as the image of a happy, young Japanese woman in 40′s clothing flashed in your mind. 

* * *

The first sign was Bucky tensing next to you, going so still he could be mistaken for a statue. You flicked your eyes to backscatter without hesitation, eyelids closed as you searched every direction, not that you had to look very hard. 

Logan was frozen maybe two hundred feet down the path, nostrils flaring and brows drawing low over his eyes.

What surprised you, though, was the metal attached brutally to his skeleton. You’d heard the rumors and scavenged what information you could on the Weapon X program (only to shut it down if you found any traces of it, not that you’d been successful in either capacity). Still, seeing it in person- well, mostly in person- was something else entirely. 

You tensed and stood slowly. Bucky was already on his feet and staring down the road at exactly where Logan was, though you knew vision of him would still be blocked by the trees. Any second now Logan would charge through the trees and rip you and Bucky to shreds with those wicked metal-covered claws. 

Logan drew a deep breath and you knew if he was any harrier than he already was you’d be able to see his hair stand on end. As it was, he was even tenser than Bucky. 

The two of you had barely been able to run away last time and that was before he’d been infused with adamantium. You’d both had a few upgrades between now and 1946, but you doubted that’d mean much in the end. 

When he stepped forward calmly, almost serenely, you couldn’t help the surprise that leapt to your face. The sudden change in expression made Bucky glance down at you and, while he looked confused by your reaction, he didn’t relax at all. 

In fact, his confused frown only turned into a glower once Logan walked into view. 

[Originally posted by hughxjackman](https://tmblr.co/ZZGTMy2adNYTl)

He paused as soon as he laid eyes on the two of you, dark brown eyes assessing and less hostile than you’d expected. He was maybe a hundred feet/thirty meters away, so close you could reach him in a second if you used your cybernetics. 

He looked you and Bucky up and down and you fought the urge to flinch under his stare. The last time you’d seen him he was trying to kill you, and you couldn’t even blame him. You’d just murdered his wife and unborn child, after all. 

The silence stretched on for what felt like a small eternity. You’d had so many things you’d wanted to say the moment you saw him, but everything seemed inadequate now that you were looking at him, the weight of your sins bearing down on you like a physical weight. 

Then, “Guess I owe Romanoff ten bucks.”

Your eyes widened in shock and even Bucky shifted next to you. You opened your mouth to ask… something, anything… but Logan was already turning away from you and walking towards the house. The old fashioned doors didn’t even have a lock; he merely slid the bamboo doors open and stepped inside, pausing only long enough to take his shoes off. 

You and Bucky stared after him in stunned surprise, not expecting that sort of reaction in a hundred years. 

“You comin’ in or what?” came a gruff, half-yelled question from inside the house. 

Bucky looked at you, uncertainty narrowing his eyes and making that ever-present tension return twofold.

“I doubt you two came from god-knows-where just to sit out there and gawk at my house like a coupla idiots.” He sounded even more annoyed this time.

Your legs moved of their own accord, not having listen to any conscious command from your mind. The house loomed over you as you walked closer but you didn’t dare stop now, afraid you’d turn and run if you stopped to think for a moment. 

Bucky was silent but you knew he was following you; he’d already agreed to do this with you, after all, no matter what came. 

The house was traditional in nearly every sense of the word. The flats you’d been wearing came off instantly (you felt more comfortable without shoes on, anyway) and Bucky’s muddy, scuffed boots followed a half second later. You used backscatter to find Logan and tilted your head in the right direction so Bucky would know where to go. 

You’d half expected to find a TV or refrigerator or microwave, but every modern appliance was missing. The sitting room Logan was in had a tatami mat floor with a single low, long table and a few pillows for sitting. The floor and table were nice, obviously hand-crafted with care, but the pillows were old and raggedy. 

Logan was already sitting at the far end of the table, looking almost lazy as he leaned against it, though his eyes were sharply assessing as you and Bucky appeared in the doorway. 

“So? Who am I talking to? The Barneses or the Winter Soldiers?” he asked, tone carefully neutral, almost disinterested. 

You winced and opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. All of those hours spent agonizing over what you’d say, how you’d apologize, and now that you were finally here-

Logan scoffed and reached into a small box on the table. Bucky shuffled, obviously expecting a weapon, but your hand on his arm stilled him instantly. 

“Guess that answers that,” he said flatly. Logan pulled out a long cigar and cut it with the tip of a metal-covered claw, which peeked out of the skin between his knuckles and flashed ominously in the low light. The sharp edge disappeared back into his skin, though, and you and Bucky both relaxed ever so slightly. “Sit down, assholes,” he said gruffly as he placed the cigar between his lips and lit it with a match from a book he pulled from his pocket. 

You and Bucky exchanged a glance. You could tell from a split-second assessment that he was still unsure about how this would end. But… if Logan was going to attack he would have by now… right?

A second later you stepped forward, tugging a reluctant Bucky with you. You sat at the opposite end of the table from Logan, who was watching the two of you closely. 

You settled down on a lumpy pillow and Bucky sat down next to you, forgoing a pillow in lieu of being as close to you as possible. You could tell he didn’t like having his back to a door, but the walls were made of paper and thin wood- it wasn’t like you couldn’t make an escape in any direction if the need arose. 

The silence stretched on again, with neither you nor Bucky able to come up with a coherent sentence. Logan puffed quietly at his cigar, seemingly content to let the two of you stew in silence. 

“Y’know, if I got cell service out here I woulda called Rogers and Romanoff by now.”

You and Bucky froze again, eyes widening slightly. It was Bucky who managed to talk first. “You’ve been- They contacted you?” he asked, not quite able to keep the fear out of his voice.

Logan let out a long exhale and you fought the urge to wrinkle your nose at the smoke. “They thought you two might come knockin’. Guess they know you better‘n ya think.” That made both you and Bucky clam up, unsure of what to say next. This wasn’t going how either of you thought it would. When it was clear neither of you would speak any time soon, Logan let out an annoyed huff. “I don’t have enough saké for this…” he muttered, running a rough hand down his face. When he looked at you again, his eyes were a bit harder. “And I don’t got all day, either. Speak up or I’m kickin’ you out.”

You frowned and reached for Bucky’s hand, needing the comfort it provided to get you through what you were about to say. He met you halfway and gave you a gentle squeeze that bolstered you enough that you were able to find the courage to speak, though your gaze was fixed on the table.

“How much do you know?” you asked, almost fearing the answer. 

Logan puffed on his cigar and took his time responding. “Natasha and Rogers handed me a file. Told me everything they knew, which I’m guessing isn’t even the half of it. Still, there were enough damn nightmares in that folder that, for the first time in seventy years, I didn’t wanna kill ya.” Your and Bucky’s gazes flicked to him then, surprise lining your features. Logan took one look at you and scoffed. “Don’t go gettin’ all doe eyed, ya damn idiots. You’re way too old and badass to be lookin’ like that.” 

Your mouth twitched up in a sort of aborted smile, but your frown returned with a vengeance. “We’re sorry. I know words can never make up for what we did… what _I_ did-” Bucky made a distressed, angry noise beside you, but your gaze was glued to Logan. “-But we are.” You scooted away from Bucky and got on your knees, then slowly lowered your forehead to the ground, hands set on either side of your head. A second later you felt Bucky shift next to you and you could glimpse him mirroring your position out of the corner of your eye. Lowering his guard like this in front of Logan must have been killing him, but he stayed doggedly in place.

For a second, there was only the sound of Logan smoking his cigar, but you didn’t have long to wait. “Dogeza? Really? Get up, you fucking idiots,” he sounded irritated and conflicted. 

You raised your head at the same time Bucky did and immediately gravitated back towards his side. His arm was around your waist a second later and you practically melted into his side. 

Logan was glaring at the two of you and you fought the urge to grab Bucky and run. He seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. “I know what happened wasn’t your damn fault. That much was clear.” Another pause, then, “A lot of shit happened after that night. The kid lived, then tried to kill me at least a half dozen times. I got experimented on. Fell in love a few times. Got married to a woman who wanted to kill me. Joined the X-Men and dealt with their bullshit for a few decades…” he trailed off, annoyance obviously growing by the second. He blinked once or twice and seemed to refocus on you and Bucky. “Point is, between what’s happened to me and what Rogers and Natasha told me… I ain’t gonna hold it against you.”

You knew you were staring at Logan, slack-jawed, but you couldn’t help it. Never in a million years did you expect this response and- “But how, Logan? I killed her and she-”

Logan’s face turned thunderous. “If you could go back right now- to that night- would you do it again? Slit her throat with her own katana and leave her to die in a pool of her own blood?” 

You flinched as if struck by a physical blow, memories flashing behind your eyes. “No-” your voice failed for a second and you had to swallow thickly. “No, I wouldn’t- I don’t want to-” Your words failed you again and you barely registered Bucky pulling you to his chest. 

Logan’s face returned to something a little more neutral. If you weren’t mistaken, his deep brown eyes were a little sad. “Yeah, well, there’s the answer, right? Wasn’t you; wasn’t your choice.”

Bucky was running his hands gently over your arms, an obvious attempt to ground and comfort you. Your eyes, however, were fixed on Logan’s deceptively relaxed form. “But I did it,” you breathed. Now that Logan had all but forgiven you, you found yourself at a loss. Why didn’t he hate you? He should. You should have just stopped talking and taken what he gave you, but you almost needed his hate. You deserved it. 

“Yeah, you did.” His voice was carefully neutral, not accusatory, just stating a fact. 

“Then why?” Your voice was strained, your mind unable to process what was happening. 

Logan sighed, wafting a large plume of smoke into the room. “Nah, we’re not gonna talk each other in circles all night. I’ve said my piece and you’ve said yours.” You stared at him, wanting to say more, but he continued speaking before you could. “How’d you find me? More of your tech mumbo jumbo?” 

The sudden change of subject had you reeling and Bucky recovered before you. 

“Wade,” he said hoarsely. 

Logan looked truly annoyed now. “Wade? As in Wade _Wilson_?” he growled.

Bucky’s smile was more of a grimace. “The one and only.” 

“And how the hell does that bastard know where I am?” He looked peeved at the very prospect.

You shrugged. “Dunno. I asked if he’d seen you around lately and he said he’d- and I quote- ‘ask Tin Man to call in a favor with Wheels’.“

Logan groaned, took the cigar from his mouth with one hand, and ran his other hand down his face in exasperation. “I hate that kid. Doesn’t know when to shut up… S’pose he could be worse, though…” The look on Logan’s face was a little haunted and you wondered, momentarily, what Wade had done to him. When you’d talked to him a few weeks ago Wade had been polite to a fault, if not a bit weird. You’d had trouble keeping up with whatever he was talking about, but the moment you’d asked for help locating Logan he’d said “Whatever it takes to help move the plot along! You haven’t had a new chapter in weeks!” You’d stared at him as though he’d grown a second head, but he got on his cell phone and within ten minutes you had Logan’s location. One long drive and a nauseating boat ride later and you were in Japan. 

Logan groaned and nearly bit his cigar in half. “Shit, I need to move. I just finished the damn tatami, too.” He ran a hand over the mats covering the floor, scowling at them as though it was somehow the floor’s fault. 

You grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t know how else to find you.“

Logan waved a hand, dismissing your apology. “It’s done now. Didn’t plan on stayin’ here forever anyway.” He reached the end of his cigar and snubbed the end against his palm, wincing only slightly before placing the small, gently-smoking end on the table. 

You shifted nervously, unsure of what to do now that you’d more or less gotten your thoughts and feelings across to Logan. Bucky ended up deciding for you and stood, extending a hand to help you up once he was on his feet. You stared at the paper wall, trying your best to avoid Logan’s assessing gaze and Bucky’s concerned looks. “We’ll… be on our way, then. We don’t want to impose any more than we already have. Goodbye, Logan.” You turned to leave with Bucky following closely behind, but Logan’s gruff voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“Wait.” 

This was it. This was when he unsheathed those deadly sharp claws and tried to kill both of you. You tensed and turned around slowly, not wanting to startle Logan into attacking any sooner than necessary. 

“I’m sorry.” Logan’s face was twisted into a grimace, as though the words hurt him to say.

Those two words shocked you so thoroughly that your arms dropped limply to your side and you felt your shoulders slump. You knew your mouth was open and your eyes were wide but you couldn’t do anything about that just then.

Logan’s dark eyes met yours and you could tell it was _him_ that was having trouble keeping eye contact now. “I shoulda looked for you. Both of you.” He glanced up at Bucky, who shifted restlessly next to you, likely caught even more off guard by Logan’s declaration than you, as they’d never really gotten along. “By the time Dugan told me what happened, Rogers had already put the plane in the ice. I knew it was suspicious that we hadn’t found either of you, even if it was in the middle of nowhere. I was one’a the only people who probably coulda found ya, and I didn’t. Didn’t even try. I shoulda-” he growled, and reached into the cigar box, prepping his next cigar in a flash. Barely a few seconds later he had the fat cigar in his mouth, scowl lining his brow. 

“Thanks for saying that, Logan, but it ain’t nobody’s fault but Hydra’s.” Bucky’s voice was the softest you’d ever heard it when speaking to Logan and the shorter man glared at him, probably feeling as awkward as Bucky had felt at Logan’s words. 

“And Logan?” you said with a small frown.

“Mm?” Logan grunted, brown eyes flicking back to your face, brow quirked ever-so-slightly in question. 

“If you ever want to talk- or need some backup- you got two people who understand and will be more than willing to help.” You tried to give him what you hoped was a kind smile, though happy expressions were hard to make unless it was Bucky eliciting them. 

“Not that we’re exactly the picture of mental health,” Bucky added dryly. 

That, at least, drew an amused snort from Logan. “You and me both, pal,” he said gruffly. “So, what? You gonna give me some piece of crap cellphone with your number in it, too?” When you raised an eyebrow Logan rummaged around in one of his jacket’s pockets, eventually managing to extricate an ancient flip phone. He held it in the air and waved it once before shoving it back in his pocket. “Rogers gave it to me in case I managed to get a lead on you two.” 

That made you frown and you fought the urge to fry it to pieces; that would almost definitely lead to a fight between you and Logan. However, you had a hunch that you were eager to prove. “But you’re not gonna tell them anything.” 

Logan sighed out a puff of smoke. “Nope.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side and regarded Logan with a quizzical expression. “Why not?” 

It was only after he took another puff of his cigar and blew it into the air that he responded. “Because you don’t wanna be found.” 

You and Bucky stared at him for a moment then exchanged disbelieving glances before returning your gazes to him. “Just like that?” you asked with a small frown. It was too good to be true. All of this was. Neither of you were that lucky. Hell, _Logan_ wasn’t that lucky. 

Logan’s gaze turned hard. “Guess there _is_ one more part. If you two go off the rails again it’ll be my duty to stop you.”

You felt your blood run cold at the thought. As far as you knew, the number of people who could stop you and Bucky could be counted on your hands at this point. One of them was definitely Logan. 

It made sense, though. He was honorable. By letting you go now he was at least partially responsible for anything you did from this point onward. If Hydra got a hold of you again or if both of you regressed… he’d hunt you down. 

“That’s fair,” you said after a pregnant pause, mouth in a hard, grim line. Bucky shifted restlessly next to you, upset at the prospect but knowing that, ultimately, it was probably for the best. “I don’t think either of us would want-” you bit your lip, eyes once again falling to the mats.

“If we become the Soldiers again, that’s for the best,” Bucky said quietly. You glanced at him, but he was staring Logan dead in the eyes, jaw set grimly. 

Logan nodded once to him before his eyes flicked to you, features softening a bit. “Go on, then. I’d offer you a room fro the night, but I know you’re itching to get outta here.” The words could have been harsh, but they were said with just a bit too much fondness for them to come off that way. 

“Thank you, Logan,” you said earnestly. Bucky nodded his agreement, blue-grey eyes tumultuous. 

He barked out a laugh. “That’s not my real name, y’know.” 

You frowned, not in on the joke that had made him laugh. “I wasn’t aware ‘Logan’ was a false name.” 

Logan’s grin turned a little smug. “Name’s James.”

That drew a startled laugh out of you and even a glance at Bucky revealed his lip shad turned up in a begrudging smile. “‘Course it is…” he muttered, not quite managing to sound annoyed. 

Your laughs quieted after a moment, leaving an uncomfortable silence in their wake. Unspoken comments about how rare laughs came these days and how young you sounded when you did hung stale in the air between you, but you put on a small smile. “See you ‘round, Jimmy,” you said, tossing him a wink you hoped was playful and not flirty before turning and heading for the door.

Bucky snorted and you could hear Logan groan. The guys didn’t speak for a second (you were sure you’d be able to hear them through the paper-thin walls if they had), but after a pause, Logan grumbled a “See you, bub,” which was the closest you’d ever heard Logan get to sounding fond when it came to Bucky. 

Another pause, then, “Be safe, old man.” 

An annoyed grumble. “I only got thirty five years on ya, ya fucking shithead.”

You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face. That was so close to how you remembered their interactions being back in the day that it nearly shocked you back seventy years. The sarcastic response you were half expecting didn’t come, however, and Bucky was beside you a moment later, taking his time to lace up his boots carefully while you waited just outside the door, watching the area for any threats. 

“Ready to go?” he asked a moment later as he stepped up beside you. His blue-grey eyes searched your face for any flicker of emotion that would set off warning bells, but for the first time in a long time, your head wasn’t a complete mess. Or, at least, you had one burden among hundreds taken from your shoulders. 

“Yeah, Buck. Let’s go home.” 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Bucky takes steps to protect yourselves, which leads you back to New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), mentions of: past torture, death, blood, weapons. Allusions to PTSD.  
> A/N: Next Chapter will probably start the events of CA:CW.  
> Also, I’ll probably be busy starting to write things for Spooktober. There will likely be a special taglist for Spooktober fics that till tag you in things including but not limited to Monster!Character one shots, A Night to Remember, and A Dance with the Devil. Keep an eye out for it!
> 
> **** I'm taking requests for special Spooktober fics. You can find out more and give me your requests [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12481880/chapters/37378574)

##   

[Originally posted by opalcrystals](https://tmblr.co/ZQ_iKu2LpQXiC)

“I have the analysis you requested, Misses Barnes.”

You glanced up from the drone you’d been working on. Installing the new targeting algorithm was taking some time, but it would hopefully ensure they’d never fire with deadly force on any human… though the same could not be said for aliens and robots. Factoring in variables for mutants and other enhanced individuals had been especially tricky, but you’d enjoyed tackling the challenge with a single-minded purpose.

The screen in front of you was slowly rolling through information, finally ending on a summary:

 

> _Matthew Michael Murdock._
> 
> _Hell’s Kitchen; New York, New York. United States of America._
> 
>  
> 
> _Lawyer_
> 
> Daredevil.

You stared at the screen for a second, taking in his face in the professional and candid photos alike. It only took a glance at the first picture to notice he was blind. “That would explain the mask…” you muttered as a couple low-quality shots of Murdock with a scarf tied over the top of his head flicked across the screen. “You sure about this, Al?” you asked the air around you. A frown crinkled your brow. It wasn’t exactly easy to identify the blind lawyer as the nearly superhuman vigilante.

“Quite, madam. I believe Mister Murdock is one of the only people on the planet with the correct disposition, life experience, and skills required to assist you. He is, put plainly, your best option.”

That only made you frown harder at his picture, though. Talking to him- going to New York- it was a huge risk. You were so lost in thoughts you nearly missed Bucky walking into your workspace, but managed to notice his presence before you accidentally fried him to a crisp on reflex.

“Did Alfred get a hit?” he asked, voice hoarse and deep from having just woken up. You glanced at the clock, nearly wincing when it showed the time as 4:38 AM. He walked up behind you, wrapped his arms around your shoulders, and placed his chin on the top of your head.

You hummed an affirmative, though your frown didn’t abate. After a second, you could practically feel Bucky grimace, too. “New York…” he muttered, obviously perceiving the same issues as you.

New York was dangerous. It was where Hydra had recaptured you once before. Tony Stark lived there. The population was huge, which meant it was easier for people to blend in… and that it was all the more likely that you’d be recognized. Undoubtedly anyone looking for you would be keeping a close eye on the city.

“Even with possible dangers taken into consideration, I believe Mister Murdock will be the most likely to assist us,” Alfred insisted. You wondered briefly if he was capable of being upset with your and Bucky’s apparent lack of faith in his assessment. You’d have to check later and possibly apologize.

“If you’re sure, Al,” you said after a long minute. Bucky sighed deeply and squeezed you gently and you didn’t have to look at him to know he was discontent with the idea.

“Quite, ma’am.”

“Then ready travel plans for New York, please,” you said somewhat reluctantly. You reminded yourself that trusting Al was tantamount to trusting only your own best decision making skills, as you were the one that had designed the artificial intelligence in the first place.

You turned in the old rickety computer chair and Bucky loosened his arms enough to move, taking a small step back and straightening a bit. His eyes were stormy, concern obvious even with the dark circles under his eyes. “Did I wake you up?” you asked quietly as you reached up to run your thumb over his cheek. He leaned into the touch, eyes closing briefly at the light contact, then shook his head. “Nightmare?” you guessed with a frown.

A shrug, then, “Dunno…. Can’t remember. Come back to bed?” he murmured, extending a hand out towards you.

You smiled softly, ignoring the fact that you couldn’t come “back” to bed seeing as you hadn’t been there in the first place, and dropped your hand from his face to take his offered hand, standing with only slightly wobbly legs. You’d been sitting for… ten hours? It never felt like long when you got to work, but somehow the time always managed to flash by.

Time passing by in a blur hadn’t changed, even without the icy clutches of cryofreeze to speed the process along.

You expected Bucky to just walk into the other room with you, but he picked you up with ease and practically threw you over his shoulder. You smiled, surprised, and muffled your huff of laughter in your hand. Whatever had woken him up (it might have even been Alfred, telling him to come collect you), it definitely wasn’t a bad night. This was just sleepy, possessive Bucky, not unlike how he was before… _everything_.

You found yourself on the mattress on the floor not five seconds later, landing gently, as Bucky had been careful to lower you slowly before letting you fall the last few inches.

He was beside you in an instant, reeling you into his chest with one arm while the other grabbed the sleeping bag you used as a blanket and pulled it over both of you. It was just big enough to cover you two like this, though you were pretty sure Bucky’s feet poked out the end and over the bottom of the mattress (not that he ever complained).

“Goodnight, Buck,” you whispered even as you began falling asleep, more tired than you realized now that you weren’t in front of your bright monitors.

“Night, Doll,” came the immediate, nearly-incomprehensible response from your practically asleep husband. You smiled and let yourself relax in his arms. Like this, it was easy to ignore the anxiety of knowing that you’d have to go to New York tomorrow.

You fell asleep to the sound of Bucky’s soft snores.

* * *

[Originally posted by the-loser-guy](https://tmblr.co/ZZxz1l20UwDkE)

Curvy cars, posters about the war, dames in modest dresses, and fellas in hats.

You blinked and the past vanished like fog chased away by the sun, revealing the truth- the present- underneath.

“That used to be a butcher shop,” you murmured, nodding your head towards a skeevy-looking pawn shop with bars over the windows.

Bucky paused his subtle scouting long enough to give it a glance before his eyes returned to rooftops and alleys and shadowed doorways. “You went to Manhattan a lot?” he asked quietly.

You pressed even closer to his side as a small group passed. You’d checked them for weapons the moment they’d turned the corner, but that still didn’t stop you from being wary around strangers. People didn’t need guns to be dangerous. As if sensing your distress Bucky’s arm went around your shoulder, leaving his left arm free if he needed it.

“Sometimes,” you admitted as soon as they were out of earshot. “I lived all over New York at some point or another. Most orphanages couldn’t get rid of me soon enough and no one in their right mind was adopting during the depression. It was better to explore the city and pickpocket greenbacks from rich jerks than sit in the orphanage and listen to my stomach rumble.”

Bucky stopped looking at the shadowy corners of Hell’s Kitchen at that, nearly slowing down as he processed what you said. “You… remember that?” His brows were pulled up ever so slightly in the middle and you fought the urge to look away. That was a pitying look if you ever saw one.

As if you had any right to pity anymore.

“More or less. I filled in the gaps the records left,” you admitted. It was almost a relief that the building you needed finally came into view as you and Bucky turned the corner. “Show time, sweetheart,” you said with what you hoped was a bracing smile as you stood on your toes and placed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

Judging from the conflicted look he gave you, you weren’t completely successful.

The door was between a residential building’s entrance and an old electronics repair place. The little gold and black placard on the red painted wall could easily be overlooked, but it was exactly what you were looking for.

“Nelson and Murdock,” Bucky murmured, giving it and the building a cursory once over. 

You opened the grating-covered door and led the way inside and neither you nor Bucky relaxed in the slightest until the door clicked shut behind you.

Four flights later you were greeted by gold lettering, “Nelson and Murdock Attorneys at Law.” You knocked on the door and opened it quietly when a voice on the other side called “Please come in, it’s open!”

[Originally posted by thepunishergifs](https://tmblr.co/ZXCyFg2VQlwvX)

A pretty, tiny blonde with blue eyes was sitting at the desk, smiling at you and Bucky politely.

“Hi, uh-” She fumbled a bit with the papers on her desk. Her cheeks tinged pink and you could tell she was growing more flustered by the second. “Sorry, I’m still not quite used to us having clients and- Did you have an appointment or are you here to-”

“They’re here for me, Karen. My two o’clock.”

All three of you looked up at the newcomer. Matt Murdock stood in the doorway, tense but projecting a sense of calm and control, likely to ensure the woman- Karen- didn’t catch on to the danger you and Bucky posed.

“Oh!” she smiled nervously and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She glanced at the old clock on the wall and then nodded. “I was so busy I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. Are you ready for them?” She directed the last question at Murdock, who took the entire situation as smoothly as he could.

You could see him work it through in his head: Get the threats away from civilians. Don’t make a move before you ascertain the situation.

“Yes, of course. Please, come in,” he said, stepping aside and sweeping an arm wide and gesturing both of you into the room.

You and Bucky gave Karen polite smiles and stepped quickly inside. The door shut softly behind you, but neither you nor Bucky missed the lock sliding into place.

“Please; the blinds, if you would,” Murdock said, voice only slightly strained as he maneuvered the room as though he had 20/20 vision.

You moved over to the window that looked out into the waiting room and flicked the blinds closed, turning them down until no one could see in or out of the room. Bucky and Murdock were already seated and, for all intents and purposes, staring balefully at each other by the time you took your seat.

Murdock’s jaw worked dangerously for a moment before he finally collected himself to speak. “I don’t know who or what you are but if you try to hurt-”

“We’re not here to hurt anyone. We _don’t want_ to hurt anyone.” You felt a little bad for cutting him off, but he had to believe that before you could get anywhere. Your lips quirked up into a tiny sardonic smile. “I also find it a little hard to believe that you don’t already at least suspect who we are. We know who _you_ are, after all.”

“Is that a threat?” Murdock responded instantly, and you kicked yourself for your poor phrasing and timing.

Bucky frowned and you could tell it was taking all of his attention to appear as anything but an aggressor. “No, but it _is_ why we’re here.” 

You reached into your pocket and froze when Murdock practically teleported out of his chair and lunged toward you. Bucky’s hand shot out and stopped his hand midair and you stared at the two of them, tension coiling your muscles tightly. “Please, it’s not a weapon. It’s a device I created for you to use.”

Murdock didn’t back down and you could tell he was straining against Bucky’s cybernetic arm. Bucky was far stronger, but he’d stayed in his seat and, as such, had to work harder than he otherwise would have had to keep Murdock at bay. “What kind of device?” he spat, just quietly enough that you knew Karen and his associate- Nelson- wouldn’t hear.

“I call it RAR: Responsive Archive Reader. It will allow you to access every file we’ve managed to collect on ourselves. On… our past. On what we’ve done. What was done to us,” you nearly trailed off, but being able to talk about your tech brought you back. “Everything is sorted and tagged by date, organization, place, and just about anything else you could think of. It can either read it out to you or its surface can change to spell it out in braille. You can even ask it to look up certain information,” you said, voice regaining some of its confidence the longer you talked.

At that, Murdock finally stopped trying to get at you and took a half step back. “Your files. So you _are_ …” he trailed off, as though he was unwilling to say those cursed names.

_“The Winter Soldiers”_ hung unspoken in the air.

You weren’t willing to say them, either. Even after sweeping the building for bugs as you came in, it was too dangerous. “Yes,” Bucky confirmed quietly. 

There was a long pause where Murdock didn’t move. If you didn’t watch his chest closely you would have questioned if he was even breathing. “Why come to me?” he asked finally, still not sitting back down.

You gripped the cell phone-sized piece of tech in your hand and frowned, finally unable to look at him.

“Because we’re hoping you’ll help us,” Bucky said after a long pause.

Murdock frowned and canted his head ever so slightly to the side, which immediately piqued your interest, but you kept your mouth shut. “Before I decide what I want to do, you have to answer some questions for me.”

You and Bucky glanced at each other and he nodded imperceptibly. You both looked back and Murdock, but it was you who spoke up. “That’s fair. Go ahead.”

“Are you a danger to my friends and clients?”

_Ah, shit. One of the toughest questions right out the gate._

But if your suspicions were correct, lying would get you nowhere. “Yes. We’re a danger to everyone, including ourselves.”

“But we don’t want to be,” Bucky added. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was frowning or that he was reaching for your hand. Your hands met halfway and your fingers laced together. It was Bucky’s left hand and, as you suspected, Murdock seemed able to track the movement more easily than he had any right to.

Murdock’s frown stayed firmly in place. “You know who I am? What I do?”

“Yes,” you responded instantly.

“Do you intend to blackmail me using that information?” he asked just as quickly.

“No,” Bucky rasped.

“Why me?”

“Because of what you do,” you said quietly.

“You mean being an attorney?” he asked, brow creasing just a little more.

You winced, knowing what he was hedging around. “Both.”

“Taking this case will put me in danger.”

It wasn’t a question, but you took it like one. “Almost indefinitely.” 

He took a moment to consider that, then, “Do you regret everything you’ve done the last seventy years?”

“Yes,” Bucky responded instantly, just as you said-

“No.”

Bucky turned to stare at you and Murdock tilted his ear a little more in your direction. “Care to elaborate?” he said just a bit flatly, menace creeping back into his voice.

“I don’t regret fighting against the people who tried to control me whenever I got the chance. I don’t regret trying to escape. I don’t regret forming a bond with Natalia Romanoff, or trying to save Mila Hitzvig and Ran Shen. I don’t regret stopping Hydra’s takeover of SHIELD or saving people in Sokovia. There’s more, but…” you frowned as your brain tried to conjure up more examples and failed. “I can’t… my brain doesn’t always cooperate. I’m sorry.” Bucky’s hand squeezed yours gently.

“I spoke without thinkin’. She’s right. There are things I don’t regret doin’ these last seventy years, though they’re by ‘n’ large the outliers,” Bucky agreed quietly, giving you a fond look before he turned a hard gaze on Murdock, who you knew Bucky still saw as a threat.

He gave you and Bucky a moment before forging onward. “Why not contact Rogers or Romanoff? Surely they’d be willing to help.”

You grimaced and knew Bucky’s face had probably done something similar. “Lotsa reasons,” Bucky began in a wary voice. “Some’a which will be answered if you listen to my girl’s device. The main reason is that contacting them brings in the rest of the Avengers…”

“And we’re poised to ruin everything Steve and Tasha have built for themselves,” you finished.

“Are you protecting them or yourselves?” Murdock asked shrewdly.

You and Bucky both had to fight back a wince. “Honestly? Probably both,” you admitted quietly.

He nodded as though that had answered a very pressing question. “And what are you hoping to gain from hiring me?”

You and Bucky exchanged a look. “We’re hopin’ it won’t come to you havin’ to do anything,” Bucky said quietly.

Murdock stared at him as though waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, you explained, “This is a doomsday protocol, of sorts. It’s our hope to just… hide. From everyone. Everything. Your services would only be needed if someone finally captures us. That someone being a government.”

“And if I decide I don’t want to help admitted murderers?” Murdock asked after a second. He shifted to his other foot, obviously ready for a fight.

You shrugged. “Then you throw RAR into the Hudson and pretend you never saw us.”

“That’s it?” he asked skeptically.

“That’s it,” Bucky confirmed.

A longer pause this time, then, “And if I try to bring you in? Alert the authorities?”

“We incapacitate you and anyone else who tries to stop us, then escape,” you said stonily. You prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

But Murdock only nodded again, looking a little grim. “I’m going to be honest- I don’t feel comfortable taking this case unless I know more.”

You tried to smile, but you knew it was a grimace. “All yours, Mister Murdock,” you said as you slid RAR across his desk. You took it as a good sign that he picked it up without hesitation. “You can tell it to turn on and off by saying ‘RAR’ and then ‘on’ and ‘off’ and tell it to look for specific tags by saying ‘RAR conduct search’ and then tell it what you want it to search. Switch between reading modes by saying ‘braille’ and ‘voice’. It’s quite intuitive, really.”

He palmed the device carefully as though searching for hidden traps or weapons but seemed to ultimately decide it was safe because he pocketed it a second later, still looking serious. “And how do I contact you if I decide to take the case?”

You blinked dumbly at him and it was Bucky who recovered first. “You can’t contact us, Murdock. It’s too dangerous. For all of us.”

Murdock raised an eyebrow at that. “Then how will you know if I’ll take your case?”

“We won’t,” you answered quietly.

“But we hope that you do,” Bucky added just as quietly but with an earnestness that had you squeezing his hand.

Murdock leaned back in his chair, brow furrowed. You expected him to say something, but he remained quiet for a long time- long enough for both you and Bucky to have to fight the urge to shift in your seats. “Why me?” he asked finally and just a little accusatorially.

Bucky blew out a long breath at that and sank back in his chair, having already thrown in the towel on this particular question. He did, however, give your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Because you’re our best option.”

Murdock only frowned deeper and leaned forward. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

You sighed and took a moment to collect your thoughts, annoyed at how long it took you to find the right words. Being out and in the open like this was really getting to you. “You’re _good_. As in, a good person. One of the best. Could give Rogers a run for his money. I looked into your work. Your hobby, too.” Murdock’s face darkened a bit at the allusion to his other identity, but you barreled on. “Our situation isn’t normal. Neither is yours. If your heart is even half as big as I think it is- or if you care about the truth at all- then you’re the only person in the world that will give us a chance… without Steve Rogers backing us up or Natasha Romanoff threatening you.”

It was a weak attempt at a joke and, as expected, Murdock’s lips didn’t so much as twitch. He did, however, seem to find your answer acceptable. “So what? I’m just supposed to build a case? Without talking to either of you? And that’s assuming I take the case to begin with.”

You nodded to his pocket, forgetting he couldn’t see you (though you had a feeling he “saw” more than he let on). “It’s all on that archive. Everything we can remember. Everything we’ve scrapped together from files and data. It’s a more reliable source than we are most days. Things- the memories- they fade in and out.”

“But the things on that drive- they’re things we’ve looked into. Things we both remember. Should be the most complete and accurate file on us anywhere. I’d recommend keepin’ it close,” Bucky said gravely.

Murdock nodded at that, hand making an aborted motion to his chest pocket before he returned his hands to his desk and fiddled idly with a pen (that you had no doubt he’d use as a weapon the moment the need arose). “I’ll review the file as soon as I can. Is there… anything else?” he seemed slightly off kilter, not that you could blame him. Two world renowned assassins had just sauntered into his office and asked him to defend them in court, after all.

“No, that’s ever-” you froze when Bucky gave your hand an urgent squeeze. You glanced over at him and he gave you an expectant look that sent you thinking. Then it hit you. “Oh!” you said quietly, lips twitching up at Bucky’s smitten half smile. “You just received a large anonymous donation to your firm. I suggest using it to fix this place up a little bit… or perhaps getting an air conditioning unit. It’s going to get hot soon.”

That, however, made Murdock prickle like a porcupine, but Bucky was already heading him off at the pass. “It’s clean money, Murdock. My girl made it from patenting some crazy energy efficient electric engine or something like that.”

“But I don’t even know if I’ll take your case yet,” he argued stubbornly.

You peered at him, gaze too old for your face. “No, but you and your partner do good work here. I’ve read about your cases. It’s a worthy investment of my money.”

Murdock still looked dubious, but he decided to let the subject drop. “Then our business is concluded?”

You and Bucky stood at the same time, as slowly and non-threateningly as you could, but Murdock still practically jumped to his feet. “Yes, Mister Murdock. We’ll be on our way.” You stared at him, hawk-like, for any sign that he’d try to stop you. He hesitated briefly before walking past both of you to open the door. Bucky tugged you close to his side as you walked out. You paused to give the secretary- who was looking at you and Bucky with a little bit of confusion- a wave which she returned with barely concealed surprise and a tentative smile.

You were almost out of their small office when the door opposite Murdock’s opened and a man with shaggy blond hair and an infectious smile (which almost immediately turned into something more professional upon seeing you and Bucky) walked out.

“Oh! You must be Matt’s two o’clock,” he said brightly, though you could see the small flash of greed in his eyes. “I trust your meeting went well and you’ll be using our services mister and misses…?” he trailed off, looking between you, Murdock, and Karen inquisitively.

_Foggy Nelson. Murdock’s business partner. Good heart, but perhaps more practical than Murdock, which often comes off as unsavory priorities… namely, making money._

A quick glance behind you told you Murdock was as tightly wound as a spring. You turned what you hoped was a melancholy smile on Nelson. “I’m afraid Mister Murdock declined our case. We… didn’t see eye to eye on some issues,” you said softly. It was better this way- his coworkers wouldn’t pester him about your case.

But Nelson looked at Murdock with such disbelief and exasperation that you wondered if you’d made a mistake.

“We can’t pay anyway,” Bucky added smoothly.

At that, Nelson’s face turned the kind of fake polite that was usually only mastered by the most obnoxious, self-absorbed people.

[Originally posted by marvelheroes](https://tmblr.co/Zh5eWm2Str2Jn)

“I see. Well then I’m very sorry Nelson and Murdock won’t be able to assist you. Please have a nice day.”

The secretary was looking between the four of you with confusion, but Murdock finally relaxed ever so slightly as Nelson herded you out.

“Have a nice day!” Nelson called. Just before the door shut you looked over your shoulder and saw Murdock facing in your direction, head turned slightly to the side.

You smiled and waited until you were a few steps away before saying softly, “Thank you for your time, Mister Murdock. Take care,” knowing full well he’d hear you.

It wasn’t until you were a few blocks away that Bucky spoke. “Think it’s done yet?” he asked as you turned the corner and ghosted between other New Yorkers going about their busy days.

You frowned as you thought about it. “Probably.” Admitting it made anxiety coil low and deadly in your stomach. As if sensing the shift in your thoughts, Bucky threw his arm around your shoulder and drew you close to his side, taking his eyes off his surroundings only long enough to press a kiss to your temple.

“Better hurry back, then. I’m… eager to know the truth, either way. Y’know?” he murmured.

You smiled up at him and your breath caught in your throat. He looked… _good_. Two years since you both escaped Hydra. Two years out of cryo. Two years together, healing. Eating actual food. Sleeping on a real mattress.

The change had been so gradual that you hadn’t noticed. It had taken being in New York again for you to really look at him.

Your smile was more genuine than it had been in a long time as you leaned up and pecked a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, Buck. I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it up top, I'm taking requests for special Spooktober fics. You can find out more and give me your requests [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12481880/chapters/37378574)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is a fickle thing. It’s a lesson you and Bucky have learned time and time again… but life finds a way to make you relearn it again. Then, you receive some news you can’t ignore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), mentions of: past torture, death, blood, weapons. Allusions to PTSD, NSFW, 18+, vaginal sex, unprotected sex.  
> A/N: I’m busily starting to write things for Spooktober! Please send in some requests for things you want to see this spooky season! Please send me requests by commenting on Chapter 6 of my Work "The Monster Series"!
> 
> The smut is brief and not very detailed… because I’m lazy and hate writing porn. But hey, better than nothing, right?

##   

[Originally posted by garrrettwatts](https://tmblr.co/ZR3SAq2H0mYBw)

You were barely through the door of the underground Transhumanist bar in Romania before Anon (Doctor Holden Radcliffe’s assistant) was on you like flies on shit. The only difference was that Anon was always almost eerily still, her augmentations far more extensive than yours or Bucky’s.

“Hello. Doctor Radcliffe is waiting for you,” she said in her measured, almost synthetic voice. She didn’t blink and you were struck, again, at how odd it was that people would _choose_ to live like this… though their procedures were likely not as traumatic as what you and Bucky had gone through.

“He finish those tests yet?” you asked as you weaved through the crowd of other cyborgs, eyes permanently on backscatter, searching for weapons.

It wasn’t that useful; like you and Bucky, in here people’s bodies were the weapons.

“Yes, he finished them this afternoon. He’s quite eager to share his findings with you,” Anon informed you with a bland smile that could give Agent Coulson a run for his money on its “robotic” factor.

Bucky squeezed your hand gently and you knew he felt it, too: fear, trepidation, excitement, and hesitation all nearly overwhelmed by the need to know the truth.

The bodyguards standing on either side of the hidden door nodded at Anon as she neared and stepped aside. The coat rack and a section of the wall swung outwards revealing a long, narrow, dimly lit, and largely unremarkable hallway that led to an elevator. A short ride later and the doors opened, revealing another set of the same, bland halls and a single door that showed the medical room. Without waiting for Anon’s direction you took an immediate right and headed for Radcliffe’s true lab, which looked nothing like the horror-esque operating room that Anon had led you to the first time you came here (it _still_ gave you the heebie-jeebies, too reminiscent of Hydra’s operating rooms).

The second you opened the sleek white doors Radcliffe was speaking, a spark in his eye that you’d come to know well during your time in Romania.

“Oh there you are! It’s about time, too! I’ve been waiting for-” he paused and frowned and turned to his assistant. “Anon, how long have I been waiting?”

“About an hour, sir,” Anon responded dutifully with a slight incline of her head.

Radcliffe look scandalized. “An hour! A whole bloody hour! If you didn’t design such amazing implants I would have-”

Bucky cut him off, though. “Don’t pretend like you weren’t experimentin’ while you waited, Doc,” he said shrewdly.

Radcliffe froze mid-step and glanced up at him, frown creasing his brow. “And you brought _this one_ with you again. I don’t know why you bother bringin’ him along. S’not like I can talk shop with him like I can with you,” he muttered bitterly as he made his way over to the computer on the other side of the room.

You and Bucky had long learned to take Radcliffe’s ramblings with a grain of salt. He was a genius, to be sure, but like most geniuses he had terrible people skills.

You shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe, but he’s got you pegged,” you said, smile turning just a shade of vindictive.

Radcliffe looked like he was about to argue, but eventually tilted his head in acknowledgement and nodded. “Yeah, s’pose you’re right about that. I came up with a new design that can increase the accuracy of-”

“Focus please, Doctor Radcliffe,” you said crisply. Once he got started on his designs it was nearly impossible to get him to stop. “The results of the tests. Give us those and this-” you pulled a small hard drive out of your pocket, “-is yours.”

Every hint of annoyance was gone and that sparkle in his eye was back. “Is that-?”

“Yes,” Bucky confirmed, perhaps a bit more tersely than was strictly necessary (not that you could blame him).

Radcliffe gave the hard drive one last longing look before he pulled up the data. Holograms and screens flashed as numbers and figures were plastered across them.

You found what you were looking for after a few moments. “There, that one,” you said, pointing at one of the holograms.

“Ohoho I thought you might take interest in that one. It’s a shame there wasn’t enough left to replicate it, because-”

You felt Bucky tense beside you and you didn’t have to look at him to know he was glaring balefully at Radcliffe. Judging by the way the Doctor quieted so suddenly, he must have seen it, too.

He turned back to his computer and a second later the screens and holograms flickered to show a more in-depth analysis of the study you’d pointed at. “Right, well, anyway. Here’s what I was able to analyze from the samples that you gave me. Those, combined with the Hydra files you sent me, led me to the conclusion that-”

“Whitehall,” you hissed as his face popped up on the screen.

Radcliffe nodded gravely. “Yes, Daniel Whitehall. A few of the vials contained samples of his blood. Most notably, before and after being introduced to various chemicals and foreign objects. Now, the compound you were interested in- codenamed IS-003- appears mixed with his blood in one of the vials. It also appeared in a few others, but it wasn’t until he was exposed to something else that his genetic code was changed so dramatically and-”

“Thank you, Doctor Holden,” you said, holding the hard drive out to him, face resolutely neutral.

Radcliffe turned to look at the two of you, confusion lining his features. “I don’t understand. You’ve not even seen the best part! This man was-”

Bucky was a strong, steady presence beside you as you took a step forward and practically shoved the hard drive into Radcliffe’s hands. “That’s alright. We know how Whitehall’s story ends. We have the information we wanted, anyway.” You held the hard drive out stubbornly until he took it.

Judging by his expression, though, your actions just confused him more. “I don’t get it. Weren’t you interested in how he reversed the aging process? You’re not making any sense! That compound he used- IS-003- wasn’t what- Hey! Where are you- Don’t you care about the science behind it at all?”

Radcliffe sounded more offended and distressed the farther out of his lab and down the hall you went until his indignant cries were abruptly cut off by the closing of the elevator doors. You could just barely see Anon’s politely puzzled gaze behind Radcliffe’s beanpole frame.

Immediately, Bucky’s arms were around you, but you couldn’t cry. Not here, not now.

That didn’t stop your eyes from getting watery, nor the feeling of anger and helplessness from quickly bubbling to the surface.

“They- our baby, Buck- they-” You choked back a sob and took a deep breath. Bucky’s flesh hand was running through your hair and he was shushing you gently as his metal thumb rubbed small circles into your back.

“I know, Doll, I know. Just hang on ‘til we get home, alright?” he pleaded gently, sounding only slightly less wrecked than you did.

You banged a fist gently on his shoulder to show your frustration and reigned your anger in just in time for the doors to open. You barely saw the dimly lit walls as Bucky tugged you along, warm hand the only thing keeping you grounded at the moment.

Even the din of a large group of mildly drunk people and the feeling of being brushed against didn’t snap you out of your daze.

You did, however, come to yourself when you realized Bucky had stopped and was staring at the television above the bar. He was probably able to hear the newscaster over the cyborgs in the club, but you had to rely on the subtitles and lipreading to understand the woman.

“The Avengers were spotted today in Lagos, Nigeria. According to witnesses and incoming reports, they were there to stop a group of terrorists led by Brock Rumlow- better known as Crossbones-, a former Hydra and SHIELD agent. However, the situation turned fatal when Crossbones detonated a bomb-rigged suicide vest after being defeated by Captain America. The Scarlet Witch attempted to contain the explosion, but lost control and it, instead, destroyed much of a nearby building. The civilians inside had no way to prepare themselves for the blast and reports of the casualties are still rolling in. We hope to keep you updated as events continue to unfold. This negligence by the-”

“Madam,” said Alfred’s voice in the comm in your ear.

“I see it, buddy,” you muttered, wincing as you watched the explosion that someone had recorded with a grainy camera phone.

“I see. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to locate Brock Rumlow before now, Misses Barnes. Perhaps if I had-”

“S’okay, Al. You’re not perfect. No one is,” you said faintly. You could feel Bucky’s gaze on you and you turned to look at him, knowing what he was thinking without having to say anything.

_Steve would blame himself. Always does._

_Natalia would take it hard, too.  
_

_If the Witch was anything like her brother, you had a feeling she’d feel just as guilty as Steve._

Bucky tugged you in the direction of the door, throwing an arm over your shoulder once you were beside him. “Let’s get home, Doll. Nothin’ more we can do here,” he said quietly.

You gave him a tired, appreciative smile that he responded to with a kiss to your temple.

* * *

You were on Bucky the second he clicked the lock shut, your lips on his as you wrapped your legs around his muscular waist.

“Need you, Bucky,” you murmured against his lips, heartbeat immediately picking up as his hands found their way to your waist, slipping underneath your shirt and jacket and teasing your skin with his touch.

“You sure, Doll?” he murmured even as he mouthed hot kisses down your neck. You could already feel the bruises forming from where he’d sucked hickeys into your skin, all teeth and need. He knew the layout of the tiny apartment well enough that he could navigate it with his eyes closed and you didn’t have any warning before he was toppling haphazardly onto the bed, arms holding you safely against his chest.

You managed to get his jacket off before your insistent need got the better of you and his shirt joined the jacket on the ground in tattered pieces. “Yes, Buck, please,” you gasped. “Need you in me.”

That snapped the last of his resolve and a second later he was gone from on top of you. You were about to complain, but then his deft fingertips were working your clothes off with decidedly more patience and finesse than you currently possessed. His own remaining clothing joined yours a second later and when he leaned back over you, you couldn’t help but shiver at the skin-to-skin contact.

It wasn’t enough.

As if reading your mind, Bucky slipped a finger down between and, once he was sure you were wet enough, slipped inside you without hesitating.

“I love you,” you whispered, cupping his face gently between your hands.

“I love you, too, beautiful,” he murmured reverently, blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on yours.

You smirked up at him, gently teasing. “Then move, Sergeant.”

His grin was mischievous and so full of love that your heart skipped a beat. “Yes ma’am.”

* * *

**One Month Later - Bucky’s POV**

[Originally posted by captaincentenarian](https://tmblr.co/ZMNc-g2BRl0HD)

“Mister Barnes.”

“Nggh, what is it Alfred. ‘Mergency?” Bucky muttered sleepily. Normally if it was a real emergency Alfred would have used special alarms and warned (Y/N) first. That he was talking to Bucky- and quietly, at that- meant that they probably weren’t in immediate danger.

“It would be best discussed in a private channel, sir. Away from Misses Barnes.”

That woke Bucky up to wary alertness. Never in the years of knowing Alfred had he asked something like that of Bucky. Whatever it was, it was obviously important.

Bucky carefully extricated himself from your sleepy embrace but you barely twitched. He wasn’t surprised, exactly. You’d been up for 27 hours straight inventing and had only went to sleep after he’d bodily dragged you from your workshop.

He grabbed the comm from the little table by the bed and shoved it clumsily into his ear, wincing when Alfred came out much too loudly.

“Tone it down, pal. I grabbed the wrong earbud. This is (Y/N)’s.”

“My apologies, Mister Barnes. If you would be so kind as to move to the workshop, I believe that would provide us with adequate privacy,” Alfred said at a much more reasonable volume.

Bucky yawned as he shuffled into the smaller side room, swearing softly when he stubbed his toe on one of your random inventions (and was relieved when it didn’t shoot him). “Whatever you say, bud,” he muttered as he plopped down into the creaky spinning chair in front of the invention-laden desk.

“I know it is late, sir, but I’ve received some news that I would rather come from you than me when telling the mistress,” Alfred said delicately.

Bucky’s frown deepened, mind not quite working well enough after just having woken up to piece together what Alfred might be getting at. “Just spit it out, Al,” he said not unkindly.

A pause, then, “Margaret Carter has passed in her sleep in her care home in Washington D.C.”

Bucky’s entire face went slack with surprise, eyes widening ever so slightly. “You’re… you’re sure?” he croaked. The woman had always seemed so indomitable when he’d known her. He knew from what you told him that she’d deteriorated a lot in the past few years, but somehow the news just didn’t feel real. After all you and he had experienced, it was almost silly to think this was impossible. People died every day, after all, but Peggy was… _Peggy_. When it came down to it, she was the reason you and he had met in the first place. She’d saved both of your lives by assisting Steve all those years ago. Given you a chance back in the 40′s when no other person would have.

“Quite, sir,” Alfred said regretfully. “They have already begun plans for her funeral. It will be held in England and she will be buried next to her brother and husband.”

“When?” Bucky breathed.

“In two days, sir.”

Bucky drew in a long breath and leaned back in the chair, wincing as it squeaked loudly in the relative quiet of the house. “Ah, hell…” he muttered, already resigning himself to what was about to happen. “Alfred?”

“Yes, Mister Barnes?” the AI asked dutifully.

“Make travel plans for England.”

“Right away, sir.”

* * *

**Your POV**

You blinked against the light that was fighting valiantly to pierce the newspaper taped to the windows.

It was a pleasant surprise to find Bucky laying next to you, steel blue eyes bright even in the dim light.

“Hey there,” you murmured sleepily. “Shouldn’t you be at the farmer’s market?” you asked as you scooted a little closer to him and used his chest as a pillow.

He kissed the top of your head the moment you were in range. “That was yesterday, Doll. Today’s Sunday.” He sounded a little more somber than usual, but whatever it was it obviously wasn’t an emergency, so you began to fall back asleep.

“Oh,” you said simply, eyes already closed and mind beginning to drift when-

“I gotta tell you somethin’, Doll.”

Your eyes snapped open, tension coiling the muscles in your body. Your anxiety was only made worse when, instead of comforting you or trying to assuage your fears, he merely gathered you up in his arms.

“What is it, Bucky?” you breathed, biting down the rising panic. _Did someone find you? Was he leaving you? Did something happen to Steve or Natasha? Did-_

“Peggy- she died yesterday, Doll. In her sleep.”

Your breath left you all at once and it wasn’t until Bucky rubbed your back and reminded you to breathe that you took in air again, though you immediately dissolved into racking sobs.

Bucky didn’t try to sell you useless platitudes or try to quiet you. He merely held you as you soaked his thin cotton shirt with your tears, letting you muffle your cries into his chest as he gentled a hand down your back.

The first thing out of your mouth after you calmed down enough to speak surprised neither you, Bucky, nor Alfred.

“I’m going to her funeral.”

Bucky merely nodded and placed a kiss to the determined scowl between your brows. “I know,” he whispered against your skin.

“I’ve taken the liberty of readying travel plans for you, Misses Barnes. The Batmobile has been adequately modified to avoid being recognized and provides the most protection for you on your journey. Barring that, I have prepared several flight options that-”

“The Batmobile is fine, Alfred. Thank you,” you croaked, trying to sound as grateful as you felt.

“You’re quite welcome, Madam,” the AI responded.

“Already packed your bag. Wanted you to get as much sleep as possible,” Bucky said, tilting his head in the direction of a large duffel you hadn’t noticed until just then.

You clambered off his lap and dug through it, surprised to find both sets of nano skin inside. Suddenly, you realized he wasn’t planning on going with you. You turned to look at him, frowning. “You should keep at least one set for your arm, Buck.”

But Bucky was already shaking his head. “I can hide the arm with a jacket and glove. You’re gonna be surrounded by people who would love nothing more than to lock you up… and then there’s Steve.”

You winced, knowing it was true. Steve would guaranteed be there. Tony Stark might be, too, if you were unlucky. You stared at him a moment longer before you frowned and returned the nano skin to their places in the bag. “Just… be careful, alright? Anyone can recognize you, arm or no arm, if you go out without the nano skin.”

Bucky just huffed, pulled you back into his arms, and placed a tender kiss to your forehead. “Go shower and get ready to go, Doll, or you won’t make it there in time.”

You pecked him quickly on the lips and stared at him seriously. “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

His smile was small but so happy you felt yourself mirroring it, even with the loss of Peggy hanging over your head like a dark cloud. “I love you, too, (Y/N) (Y/M/N) Barnes. Now get goin’.”

“You sure you can’t come with me?” you asked as you trotted into the bathroom and started the water.

Bucky’s voice floated in from the kitchen-living room. “I’d follow you anywhere, Doll… but not if my presence puts you in even more danger. You going is a risk enough, but both of us? That’s almost guaranteed to get us noticed.”

You sighed, having already known that’s what he’d say. You stepped into the lukewarm water (which was as hot as it got) and called out to him. “I’ll come back home safe,” you promised, though both of you knew it might be impossible to keep.

Still, Bucky’s stern voice carried over the sound of the water on the tiles. “You better.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go to Peggy’s funeral while, several countries away, dark plots are set into motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), Mentions of: torture, PTSD, and death.  
> A/N: Now back to your regularly scheduled programming!   
> Russian is in “italics and quotes.”  
> As of right now I’m on Chapter 24 of WoA. Idk how much longer it will be after that, though.

[Originally posted by captainbuckybarness](https://tmblr.co/ZfcBQt24errrL)

The red wig was itchy, annoying. It was only with extreme self control that you didn’t scratch at it every few seconds. What was worse, though, was having your legs so exposed. It felt wrong to let people see them, even if you knew the cybernetic limbs were hidden by nanoskin. 

But the Black Widow- your Tasha- was calm, confident, and collected. She didn’t fidget with her hair or her skirt. She didn’t wiggle her toes in her heels or worry at the sleeves of her black jacket. 

It may have, perhaps, been a bit bold to impersonate an Avenger, but you knew enough about Steve and Natasha to know that, except for Samuel Wilson, she’d be the only one he’d let in at the moment. The security was surprisingly stringent and you’d had to go dark without Alfred to back you up, too worried that someone would tap into your communications.

The service was beautiful. You bit back tears as Steve and a handful of friends and family carried Peggy’s casket down the aisle. The Black Widow didn’t cry for agents she barely knew, even if it was the founder of SHIELD. Sharon Carter spoke and, even from your spot in the back, you couldn’t help but notice the way Sam Wilson nudged Steve when she took the podium. You could see his look of surprise in your mind’s eye at the way his shoulder’s sagged; the sudden understanding. He hadn’t known Sharon was her niece, then. 

He’d given Natasha- you- a surprised glance when the service was over, but you waited patiently at the back, smiling Natasha’s cat-that-got-the-canary smile and offering condolences to various SHIELD agents and family members that passed out through the doors. 

Soon enough even the family had filed out and it was only you and Steve (who was lost in thought near the pews at the front of the church). You matched Natasha’s confident stride and walked down the aisle, steps faltering only briefly as he turned to look at you, then quickly looked away again. You’d forgotten how blue his eyes were. 

He shifted anxiously as you got closer and when you stopped a few feet away, he sighed. “When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I’d known was gone,” he said quietly, glancing up at the picture of Peggy, young and beautiful, just how you remembered her. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, not knowing what to say to that. He wasn’t done, though, because after a breath he said, “When I found out she was alive, I was just lucky to have her.” 

You smiled faintly at him. “She had you back, too,” you said, trying to ignore how odd it was to hear Natasha’s voice coming from your mouth. You hoped that you hadn’t read their relationship incorrectly, that you weren’t overstepping their usual level of companionship. The comment earned only a tiny, considering nod, and you suddenly wished you could say more. “Who else signed?” Steve asked, gaze flicking back up to you after a moment. 

You hesitated, scattered mind trying to piece together what he was talking about. The only thing you could think of would be the Sokovia Accords, which had been finalized only a few days ago. According to Alfred, Tasha was still at the Avenger’s base. It would make sense that Steve would assume she knew what the other Avengers had decided on doing. 

You huffed out a sigh. “I’m not really sure. They were still debating when I left,” you said, hoping he’d take the lie without too much fuss. It was obvious to you, within reading the first couple pages of the long document, that there was almost no way Steve would sign it. 

Steve sighed heavily and stuck you with a stubborn look that had you feeling as though you’d been sent back seventy years. “I’m sorry, Nat. I can’t sign it,” he said with a shake of his head, eyes on the ground. 

“I know,” you said simply, a tiny, wry smile tilting up the corners of your lips. 

His gaze moved back up to you, brows furrowed and eyes searching your face. “Then what are you doing here?” 

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” you admitted quietly. And it was true. You could have left the moment the service was over, but seeing Steve looking so lost and alone had you hesitating, wanting to comfort him even though there was a tiny, broken part of you- the part that had been taken and warped by Hydra- that saw him as an enemy, a danger to your safety. His sorrowful blue eyes and hunched shoulders broke through your fear and hesitation and made you pretend- for just a little bit longer- to be someone who could provide him some comfort. Someone who _wasn’t_ actively being hunted by the governments of the world.

That answer seemed to bring him up short, shoulders sagging and eyes growing even sadder as the mask of “Captain America” slipped off and Steve Rogers was all that was left standing there in the aisle of the church.

You hummed and reached a hand out, pulling him into your arms. “Come here,” you said softly, surprised at how easily he went to you, hands leaving his pockets to wrap his arms securely around you. This was the first kind touch you’d gotten from anyone other than Bucky in years and you nearly started crying at the feeling. However Steve was nearly breaking down in your arms and, if there was ever a time to keep your cool, it would be now, so you choked back the tears and rubbed comforting circles into his back with your palms. 

You stood there for a while, peacefully comforting your friend, when the silence was broken by the click of a gun’s safety coming off. 

Both of you went stock still at the sound and you could feel Steve tense as he saw whatever was over your shoulder. “Natasha?” he breathed.

You closed your eyes and flicked your backscatter vision on. Sure enough, Natasha was standing behind you, just in your blind spot, and just out of reach of you and Steve. Steve’s arms fell from you like you’d burned him and he took a step back, eyes flicking between you and Natasha in confusion. 

“I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you surrender quietly,” she said, voice deadly calm.

 _“You’re supposed to be in upstate New York, Tashenka,”_ you said in her voice, modulator and face mask still on. You turned very, very slowly to look at her. Turning your back on Steve made you uncomfortable- he was definitely the bigger threat, even without a gun.

Her eyes widened with surprise and she lowered her gun ever so slightly, but her expression immediately turned wary. Her gaze flicked to Steve and you knew they had a silent conversation in that split second because she jerked her head in a quick nod and a second later Steve’s arms were around you again, though this time it wasn’t a friendly, caring hug. 

He was trying to restrain you. 

It flicked a switch in your brain and suddenly you were twisting out of his grip, hands sparking with electricity. Steve let out a grunt of pain as the energy surged through him and you danced out of his reach, but didn’t go far. 

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, skin crawling, arms going around your waist. 

_“What are you doing here, Mashenka? Did you come here to hurt Steve?”_ Natasha asked, gun pointed unwaveringly at your head. 

Your gaze fell to the ground, jaw working dangerously as you fought to bring your thoughts back to the present. Natalia speaking Russian at you wasn’t helping. You were fighting against seventy years of programming that told you to eliminate your targets. “No. Came here for Peggy,” you managed to grit out. The nano skin, with its modulated voice, was annoying, making it hard to think. You reached up to your face and ripped it off violently, taking in great, gulping breaths as it peeled away. Free. Not Tasha. Not The Asset. (Y/N). (Y/N), here for her best friend’s funeral. Not here to hurt Steve Rogers and Natalia Romanoff. You fell to your knees, entire body shaking with nerves and anxiety. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be here. You shouldn’t have stayed, even if Steve had looked like he was falling apart at the seams. 

“(Y/N),” Steve breathed, taking a step towards you and immediately freezing when your gaze snapped up to him, eyes cold and angry. 

_Have to go before they capture me. Promised Bucky I’d come home safe. Have to run. Have to get away. Legs won’t work. Have to move. Have to move have to move have to-_

“Is Bucky here?” Steve asked quietly, looking as though the act of keeping himself from moving closer to you was painful. Natasha, for her part, hadn’t lowered her gun, but she looked conflicted, surprised, and perhaps a bit scared.

You glared at him, wincing as your brain warred with itself- Stevie, Target: Steven Grant Rogers, Captain America, Steve Rogers skinny and frail-, making you want to hit your head against something, just to get it to stop. “No,” you hissed venomously. “You can’t have him. Doing so well, getting better, staying out of sight. Being good. But you’re making it hard,” you gasped, hands flying to the side of your head, metal fingers digging dangerously deep into your skin. Just a little zap from your fingers, make the thoughts stop, make your brain go fuzzy, blank. 

“Hey, hey, hey. (Y/N). Breathe. We’re not going to take him. He’s not here, he’s safe,” Steve said, crouching down so he was on your level. It was a clearly calculated move, made to make himself seem less intimidating. It was clear from the way Natasha shifted nervously that she didn’t like Steve making himself vulnerable around you. 

She was right. You were dangerous. 

But Steve’s words calmed you enough let to realize you’d stopped breathing. You sucked in a deep breath and repeated it a few times, trying to match it up with the steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest.

None of you spoke for a short while, but when your heart rate was at a more acceptable level, Steve gave you a tentative smile that immediately had you looking away. You didn’t deserve his smile, his kindness. Not anymore. “We’ve been looking for you- Sam, Nat, and I. You haven’t made it easy.” 

You couldn’t look at him, but the sound of his voice was different. The Asset didn’t know Steve Roger’s voice, but (Y/N) did. It was easier if you didn’t have to look at him. “Didn’t want to be found. Take a hint,” you said coldly. 

“Then why are you here?” Steve asked quietly, carefully.

Your gaze flicked to the portrait of Peggy- still up, even after the funeral had ended- and your heart clenched painfully again. “Didn’t get to say goodbye,” you whispered. 

You heard Steve shift, likely following your gaze. “You… do you remember?” he asked, hopefulness sneaking into his voice in spite of himself. You wanted to sneer at him- hope wasn’t for people like you, him, Natalia, and Bucky. 

Your gaze finally slid back to him, glowing eyes cold. “Yeah, Stevie. I remember. But I remember the other things, too,” you said darkly. 

Natasha slowly lowered herself into a squat, a compromise on her part; much easier to get to her feet from a squat or defend herself than if she was sitting. “Do you remember training me?” 

You wrapped your arms around your legs and planted your chin in your knees, lower half of your face hidden behind one of your elbows. 

“Bread in the training room. Handcuffs on the bed. Bloody toes and black eyes,” you whispered, words coming out of their own accord as the Natasha in front of you vanished and, in your mind’s eye, a young, cold-eyed Natalia appeared. 

Her smile was tight, but she nodded. “Yeah, that’s right, (Y/N).” 

You stared at her for a moment longer, then hugged your knees tighter to your chest, your gaze dropped to the ground. “You have to let me go,” you said, tone just shy of pleading. Steve’s tentative, fake smile slipped off his face and even Natasha’s faltered. “I already told SHIELD everything I know. Bucky and I- we’re toxic. Poisonous. Tasha, you’ve done so well for yourself. And Steve-” you braved a glance at him but immediately returned your gaze to the ground. “-You have people who care about you now. Bucky and I- We’ll ruin that,” you murmured, voice breaking at the end. 

Natasha and Steve were quiet as that statement sunk in. You hoped it got through Steve’s thick skull. You knew Natasha would accept it faster than him- she was never as bullheadedly stubborn, always more likely to take the path that kept herself alive and safe than Steve. 

Instead of nodding or confirming that she understood, however, she asked, “You’ve been in contact with SHIELD?” You merely nodded and when you didn’t offer up any further information, she asked, “Is that why you were in Sokovia? Pietro, Steve, and Clint all said they saw you, but…”

 _But you didn’t let me see you,_ went unsaid.

You scoffed. “No, we were hiding there. Trying to help the people. We can never atone for what we’ve done, but we do anything we can to help. We built houses. I helped set up sustainable energy alternatives, fixed silly household objects for our neighbors in my spare time.” Focusing on your time spent as (Y/N) and not the asset was slowly calming your mind, but you didn’t dare look at Natasha or Steve for more than a few seconds at a time. “Then the robots came and the city flew and you were in danger- the people were in danger- and I helped. I could have run, but the old (Y/N) Barnes wouldn’t have run, so I didn’t. I helped as long as I could but then you saw me and I couldn’t stay because you’d try to get me to stay even if it meant ruining everything you’d built. So I jumped.”

“Are you going to run again?” Steve asked after a few beats. You knew he was staring at you sadly, but you didn’t need his pity. You needed him to _understand_. 

“Yes,” you said immediately. 

“Even if you get away now, I’m not going to stop looking,” Steve said, jaw set in determination. You glanced up at him and, sure enough, his eyes were practically burning with passion. 

You smiled at him, but it was more of a grimace. “You don’t get it, Steve. We’re not the same people we were. Never will be again. Those things we did? They weren’t just stains on the soul. They warped them, took pieces away. We’re not whole anymore.”

You could tell from the look in his eyes that he found everything you’d just said an affront to everything he knew, but instead he said, “I don’t care. Those things you did- they weren’t your choice.” 

“We can help you, Mashenka,” Natasha added, looking at you searchingly. 

Instead of answering, you smiled at her. “You have to be in Vienna in a few hours, don’t you? You should be going.” 

“(Y/N)-” Steve began, but you held up a hand and he bit back whatever he was about to say. 

You had to look away again when the world started spinning, your Hydra programming trying to reassert itself. “It doesn’t matter if what I did was my choice or not. I did them. It was thanks to my and Bucky’s hands that Hydra nearly took over the world.” The thought of that hung heavy between you, neither of them quite knowing what to say. “Now, I’m going to get up and walk out that door and you’re not going to stop me because you care too much about Margaret Carter to defile her memory by making me trash this church just to get away from you. Do we have an understanding?”

Steve’s jaw worked dangerously, but Natasha laid a hand on his shoulder and his eyes flicked to her before they went back to you. “I won’t stop looking.” 

You got to your feet slowly, looking past them to Peggy’s picture. “We want you to.” 

Steve looked like he wanted to get up, but stayed put when Natasha’s hand clenched on his shoulder. “Well you were both always a coupl’a idiots.”

You couldn’t help but look at him then, lips twitching up into a ghost of a smile before your eyes slid to Natasha. “Take care of him, Tasha.” She nodded curtly, eyes stormy and conflicted, but she made no move to let Steve go or to stop you herself. 

“Goodbye, Tashenka, Stevie,” you said, giving them both a tiny nod before you turned and walked away, eyes closed and backscatter watching them closely. They made no move to stop you, though Steve certainly looked like he wanted to. 

You slipped the nano skin back on your face, though you changed the preset so that it would no longer be Natasha’s face. You breathed easier as you stepped out onto the street. You turned and stared at them as the heavy oak door closed, and it wasn’t until it closed with a surprisingly gentle whoosh that you relaxed and started walking to the Batmobile. 

The sound of the wind was calming and you glanced up at the nearby trees as you walked, but you froze when you saw that not a single one was moving, leaves completely still. The air wasn’t moving, but the sound-

You were so distracted, mind so foggy, that you hadn’t noticed the very conspicuous absence of one Samuel Thomas Wilson. 

You spun, eyes immediately flicking upwards, but the Falcon was already practically on top of you. You didn’t even have time to put an arm to defend yourself before his booted foot connected with your head and the entire world went black. 

* * *

“Man, this is a terrible idea. We should be taking her back to Avenger’s HQ or the Raft, not keepin’ her in our hotel room.” 

“We can’t do that, Sam, and you know it. Not with the Accords signing happening today. Tony, Vision, Rhodey- they’re all signing. You know the first thing the council will tell them to do is lock her up.”

“Or send her to the best psychologist money and power can buy.”

You groaned at the sound of their voices which were making your already-pounding migraine worse. “Shut the fuck up,” you hissed. You tried to use your hands to sooth some of the aching in your skull, but you found you couldn’t move your hands and you tensed. Your eyes snapped open and you immediately recoiled at the light from the lamp and TV. Your gaze fell to Steve and Sam, who’d frozen mid-conversation to look at you, one wary, the other worried. Natasha was nowhere to be seen. You stared at them like a deer caught in the headlights, then immediately set to testing the bindings on your hands. When the ropes and duct tape didn’t so much as budge you sent a spark up them, but it did nothing except burn the tiny hairs of the hemp rope and fill the air with the acrid smell. “Let me go,” you snarled at them. 

For his part, Sam only raised an eyebrow, but Steve looked sad. “I can’t do that, (Y/N),” he said quietly. 

“Then I’ll turn my thrusters on and burn this place to the ground,” you hissed. You could escape without the use of your hands… probably. Though one glance down at your legs revealed that they’d used chains instead of rope and you bit back a groan of annoyance. That would take a while to burn or saw through. You could try to break it with brute force, but didn’t feel like testing the durability of your legs when you’d almost definitely need them. 

“I can’t let you go, (Y/N),” Steve said stubbornly. 

You opened your mouth to bark back something nasty, but Sam spoke before you could. “Steve.” 

You both turned to look at him, recognizing the urgency in his voice. He was staring past you, at the TV on the wall. His jaw was clenched and you could tell he was trying to keep his cool. You turned your head as far as you could to look at it while still keeping them in your peripheral. 

Sam reached for the remote on the table next to him and unmuted it, but you and Steve had already been reading the subtitles. You felt your blood run cold.

“A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna. More than seventy people have been injured. At least twelve are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, one of the Winter Soldiers. The infamous Hydra agent has been linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations. According to officials, his accomplice- (Y/N) Barnes, the other Winter Soldier- has not been sighted. Whether or not she was present at the bombing remains to be seen, though officials are looking into all possible tips at the moment. Anyone with information-”

“It wasn’t him,” you said, gaze snapping back to Steve and Sam. “We don’t do that. _It wasn’t him_ ,” you said frantically. 

Steve looked from the TV to you, gaze hard. Sam glanced between you warily, obviously letting Steve take the lead. The moment those blue eyes fell to you and saw the raw fear on your face, though, his gaze softened marginally. “Then who?” 

You fought back the urge to forcibly break your restraints- that would only make you look guiltier right now. “I don’t know,” you pleaded. “Please, Stevie, it wasn’t him.”

Steve looked away at the nickname and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t… (Y/N)… it’s clearly him on the recording,” Steve said after a small eternity. 

You shook your head quickly, biting back the tears. “No, no! You know there are ways to fool cameras. Nano skin, prosthetics. It wasn’t him. Please believe me, _please_ ,” you begged.

Steve’s blue eyes flicked back to you, assessing and wary. “If he wasn’t in Vienna, then where?” 

You bit your lip and looked away. Bombing Vienna and framing Bucky- that was sure to get every person in the world looking for the two of you. He didn’t even have his nano-skin because _you_ had it. If he left the house without knowing about this incident, there was no way he wouldn’t be spotted and if the UN got wind of him before Steve did-

“Bucharest,” you whispered, eyes wide. “We’ve been living in Bucharest, Romania,” you said, hoping to look as honest as you could. If it came between Steve finding him or being taken in by the government (or possibly something worse, as there seemed to be foul forces at play here), the choice was clear. “Please don’t let them take him from me.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger arrives in Romania and you’re forced to make a tough decision that will change your and Bucky’s lives forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), Mentions of: torture, PTSD, and death.  
> A/N: This might not be edited to my usual standard, but I’m tired. I’ll probably go back and check it properly tomorrow.

[Originally posted by imaginary-desires](https://tmblr.co/ZZJDLd2SC-9PN)

Steve was gone, off to Romania with Sam to find Bucky.

Steve called someone- though you cussed him out for doing so- and not five minutes later Sharon Carter was knocking at the door, looking as severe and no-nonsense as Peggy, so much so that you did a double take. She took one look at you (still tied up on the bed) and stared at Steve with such disbelief that he nearly flinched. After a very long, painful conversation she agreed to stay and watch you while the other two flew to Romania.

“The moment you try anything I’m calling for backup. They won’t be as nice as me,” she said darkly the moment the door closed.

You merely grinned mockingly at her and leaned back into the pillows. You had to wait a short while before acting, knowing Steve or Sam (or both) would turn around if they were alerted to your escape. You needed the head start- for them to be thoroughly between your and Bucky’s location- before you could act.

The two of you sat in silence, with Sharon occasionally taking urgent phone calls, but eventually she spoke to you again. “She used to tell me about you, you know. Aunt Peggy.”

You clenched your teeth and refused to look at her. “I’m not that woman anymore.”

Her response was swift, but not as accusatory as you had expected. “I know.” A pause, then, “But I don’t think Captain Rogers knows. Or, at the very least, he refuses to believe it.” You tilted your head up off the pillows to look at her as she said that, single eyebrow raised. She was staring at you with such cold, calculating eyes. “If you hurt him I won’t hesitate to put you down.”

You stared at her for a moment before you finally let your head fall back down. It took you a moment to mull over her declaration and she didn’t seem to be expecting a response, but you couldn’t help yourself. “I appreciate that. I don’t want to hurt him either. If I’m in a position where I’ve reverted to The Asset… No offense, but I don’t think you can take me down, but I would hope that you would try.”

“You underestimate me,” she said flatly.

But you shook your head. “No, I just know what The Asset is capable of. It’s easy to eliminate your enemies when you feel no remorse or hesitation.”

A half hour. More than enough for Sam and Steve to find transportation and already be on their way to Romania. Time was of the essence.

You moved as quick as lightning, vaulting off the bed and into Sharon’s personal space in an instant. To her credit, she was already on her feet, gun pointing directly at you. She was just a split second too late in pulling the trigger.

All it took was a huge surge of electricity and the ropes and duct tape fried and weakened enough that you could rip your arms free of their confines. The chains were a little harder to deal with, but you’d already done a handstand and kicked the gun from her grasp.

She lunged for it, but you were on your feet again and she turned to look at you in horror as your fist connected with her temple. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious, and you winced. Definitely not going to win any points with that one. Instead of dawdling, though, you set to work on breaking the chains confining your legs.

* * *

As predicted, the chains were a little harder to get out of. Still, the moment they were off you placed Sharon the bed, pistol within reach, and bolted for the door. You weren’t sure what Steve and Sam had done with your nano skin, but you didn’t have time to worry about it.

The whole world would already be looking for you, so it was best to get out of the city and out of sight as soon as possible.

* * *

The hotel they’d been staying at wasn’t too far away from the church, which meant the Batmobile wasn’t too far away, either. To your surprise, it met you halfway to where you’d left it.

You hopped in the driver side seat the moment the doors opened upwards and Alfred shot off at distinctly illegal speeds before it had even shut.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you, Madam. Without the communication device, I’m afraid-”

“It’s okay, Al. How’s Bucky?”

The AI managed to sound sheepish. “I’m afraid Mr. Barnes has gone out without a communication device. I’m unable to contact him without using a drone.”

“Fuck!” you swore, fighting the urge to slap the dash. “Where are Sam Wilson and Steve?” you asked him tersely.

“Airman Wilson and Captain Rogers are en route to Romania, Madam. Unless Master Barnes is aware of the situation, I’m afraid he will be woefully unprepared when they arrive. Likewise, there is a task force dedicated to his capture- dead or alive- being mobilized in the city.”

Your blood ran cold at the thought. They were shooting to kill. It wouldn’t just be Bucky, either. If they found you, the bullets would be aiming to put you down.

“Get us somewhere quiet, Alfred. Make sure we aren’t being followed. Get me information on the whereabouts of all of the Avengers, along with anything you can get on the Sokovia Accords.”

“Right away, Misses Barnes,” Alfred chirped. You barely noticed as he made a nearly impossible turn around the corner, nose already buried in the holograms of information in front of you.

By the time Alfred parked in a dimly lit parking garage at the edge of town, you’d limited yourself to two options:

Go to Romania and try to help Bucky escape or…

Go have a conversation you really, really didn’t want to have.

You were about to tell Alfred to set a course for Romania when he spoke first.

“Madam?”

“What is it, Al?” you asked grimly.

“Airman Wilson, Captain Rogers, and a German special forces squad have arrived at the apartment complex.”

“And Bucky?” you whispered, slightly horrified for the answer.

“He has arrived as well, Madam.”

* * *

**Bucky’s POV**

The man in the stall on the street looked at him. Not just Random Guy him, but _him_ ; Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. He could see it in his eyes. Sure enough, when he crossed the street the man ran for his life and left his paper (and stall) behind.

There, on the front cover, was his own face staring back at him, the words “UN Bombing” sticking out in large red letters.

He set the paper down and glanced around, but no one else seemed to have noticed yet.

Back to the apartment, get the go-bag. Set the place to blow. (Y/N) would hate that her work would be destroyed, but he couldn’t take all of it with him without the Batmobile.

The entire world would be looking for him. He was out of time.

* * *

He should have expected it, to be honest. Seeing the broad shoulders and the muted red, white, and blue uniform cautiously exploring his apartment.

“Understood.” His voice was just as deep as Bucky remembered, with a sort of tactical coldness that he’d been more than used to hearing by the time he’d fallen back in 1944.

He entered silently, of course, but Steve still somehow sensed him and spun, looking almost surprised to see him for a second. The feeling was mutual. He had Bucky’s journal in his hand and Bucky wanted to snatch it from him. It was the journal full of memories… and darkness. Things Steve shouldn’t see, things that were just for the two of you.

Bucky fought the urge to look away, knowing it was more than likely that Steve had backup around. Never take your eyes off the threat.

Steve looked Bucky up and down once before he took a breath and pinned Bucky with a cautious look. “Do you know me?”

_Distance yourself. Don’t let him get close. You have to escape. Now._ “You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum,” he said, jerking his chin towards the book that Steve had almost definitely found his own picture in. Even from this far away Bucky could hear Sam Wilson- the Falcon- talking in a comm in Steve’s ear.

_“They’ve set the perimeter.”_

‘They’, not ‘we’. Not alone, then, but not working with the military. Curious, but not something he could afford to think about right now.

Steve set the journal down on the rickety kitchen table and took a couple tentative steps forward. “I know you’re nervous. And you have plenty of reason to be.” Bucky swallowed thickly and Steve’s gaze remained trained on his face. “But you’re lying.”

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore,” Bucky said instead, since playing clueless obviously wouldn’t work.

_“They’re entering the building.”_

Steve glanced at the window and took a few more steps forward, obviously aware that his time was running out. “Well the people who think you did are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive,” he said ominously.

Bucky nodded slightly as his mind processed possible plans of attack. “That’s smart. Good strategy.” _Not asking about (Y/N). He knows she’s not here. Problem for after I escape._

Footsteps could be heard on the roof above. You and Bucky lived on the top floor- hard to break into, provided lots of tactical advantage, and few buildings in the area were tall enough to provide lines of sight into it.

_“They’re on the roof, I’m compromised.”_

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck,” Steve said, looking at Bucky almost tiredly.

Bucky was resigned to it, knowing he’d have to fight through at least whatever the military had cooked up for him. Steve and Sam, too, if they thought he’d put civilians in danger. “Did you hurt her?” he asked as he went over to the makeshift shelf and began pulling his gloves off. They’d just get in the way in the oncoming fight.

“Who?” Steve asked, though his jaw clenched, giving himself away.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Bucky said flatly, barely glancing at Steve.

_“Five seconds.”_

“You pulled me from the river. She saved Natasha’s life. Why?” Steve asked, though both of them could hear the military grunts just outside the doors and on the roof. They were nearly quiet now, meaning they were about to attack.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said shakily, finally staring at Steve.

Steve’s gaze was unwavering and certain. “Yes, you do.”

Bucky didn’t have a response for that. He was right, as always, but he was saved from having to answer.

_“Breach! Breach! Breach!”  
_

Grenades through the windows; one immediately deflected by Steve, the other kicked towards Steve by Bucky the moment it hit the ground. The shield nullified any damage, but Bucky was already in motion, blocking a sniper shot with the mattress and flipping the shitty table into the doorway to make it that much harder to break down.

“Now would be good, Alfred!” Bucky yelled into the air as goons began crashing through the windows, guns out and firing immediately. Two of them were down before they could get shots off but the one Steve was after managed to fire, only for his shots to go into the ceiling as Steve yanked the rug out from under them.

A split second later drones were flying out of the workshop like angry bees, firing upon the special force soldiers with (Y/N)’s upgraded stun shots. They toppled like dominoes, but Bucky had his hands full with Steve, who Alfred apparently wouldn’t target. Chances are he knew something Bucky didn’t, but it meant that the entirety of the blond’s attention was focused solely on Bucky.

“Bucky, stop! You’re gonna kill someone!” Steve yelled as he watched the drones set to work on the soldiers around them. For all Steve knew, the shots were killing those soldiers. He clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky turned to glare at him.

“We’re not gonna kill anyone,” he spat, then flipped Steve to the ground so hard the floorboards shook. By the time Steve looked back up Bucky’s fist was already flying towards his face.

Or, more accurately, towards the backpack beneath the floorboards which also just happened to be behind his face.

His eyes nearly bugged out of his skull as he dodged, just like Bucky knew he would, and Bucky yanked the backpack through the destroyed wooden planks and threw it out the shattered window, knowing it would land on the rooftop that he now had to get to.

“Did you hurt her?” Bucky asked again, eyes cold and furious.

Steve didn’t play pretend this time. He shook his head, staring up at Bucky earnestly. “I’d never hurt her, Buck. You know that.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched dangerously and he looked away, just in time to watch the drones take down another group of soldiers. “No, I don’t know that,” he said quietly, giving Steve one last look before he bolted for the door. “Set the drones and tech to blow after you get the civilians clear, Alfred.” He didn’t get a response, but he knew the AI had heard.

He could hear Steve vault to his feet and chase after him. The drones were still clearing the soldiers in the hall with brutal efficiency, but Bucky still had to put in some work to get down the floors as fast as he could.

_Down seven floors, then jump to the adjacent roof._

He could hear Steve hot on his tail, but between the Special Forces aiming at Bucky’s back and the drone’s making his life difficult, he managed to outpace him down the stairwell.

The jump was awful and painful, but he made it, just like he knew he would. He grabbed his bag and made it two steps before he heard the explosion behind him. He knew Alfred had moved the soldiers out of the blast zone and minimized damage, but it also meant he was on his own.

Which became very, very inconvenient when a man in a black cat suit dropped out of the sky and began attacking him.

* * *

The fight ended in the tunnels, with the man in the cat suit, Steve, himself, and Sam being held at gunpoint by a small army and War Machine. The man in the cat suit was, apparently, some sort of royalty because the War Machine called him “your highness.” Judging from the look on Steve’s face he knew him, but Bucky stared straight ahead, mind already beginning to shut down.

Steve said he hadn’t hurt her, but that meant he’d been in contact with her. They got the information out of her somehow, but it also meant that, so long as they hadn’t sent her to somewhere like The Raft or the Avengers compound, she could escape. No places besides those would be enough to hold her forever.

He could barely hold back the tide of hopelessness, but he placed his trust in his best girl. So long as she was out there, he had a chance.

* * *

**Your POV**

Fooling Tony Stark’s AI (FRIDAY? Why name her after a day of the week?) hadn’t been easy. In fact, it had taken all of Alfred’s impressive processing power to do it. But, it meant you were able to sneak onboard his jet without his security system noticing. It was self-flying, obviously, so you didn’t have to worry about any pesky humans noticing you.

Stark walked onboard, chatting to someone (who was probably important in some way) using the device in his ear. You stayed put in your spot in the back compartment, waiting until the plane had taken off and been in the air for a short while before you exited silently.

He was quietly flipping through information packets on his Starkpad, mumbling annoyed curses under his breath.

It wasn’t until you passed by his side, into his periphery, that he noticed he wasn’t alone.

In a show of reflexes the likes of which you didn’t usually see from civilians, he pulled a pistol from a pouch in the chair he was sitting in, pointed it directly at you, and pulled the trigger.

Sadly for him you’d already shoved it downward so it shot you in the shin instead, then pulled the pistol from his grip before he could do some severe damage to the plane and blow both of you up midair.

He didn’t even glance at you and immediately reached for a button on the armrest between the chairs, but you caught his hand in a gentle but firm grip.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I want to talk.”

“Says the creepy Soviet-Hydra assassin who snuck onboard my plane. How did you do that, by the way?” he demanded.

“I’m afraid that was my doing, Mister Stark,” Alfred said penitently.

Tony gaped at you. “Did you _override_ my AI? What did you do with FRIDAY?” he asked, sounding possibly more offended now that you’d threatened one of his inventions.

“I’m still here, Boss,” FRIDAY piped up, sounding not at all perturbed by the situation.

“Yet you didn’t warn me about the assassin in the plane?” he asked her, sounding a bit betrayed.

“They weren’t threats, sir,” FRIDAY responded chipperly.

“My apologies again, Mister Stark. She will still function at full capacity, but I’m afraid she will not see myself or Mistress Barnes as a threat.”

Tony glared at the walls around him for a moment before his gaze settled on you. “I’m gonna be honest, I was expecting more… electricity,” he said, all bravado.

“I can still taze you if you want,” you said, sweet smile belying the sardonic words.

Tony, however, cringed at that. “That was eerily reminiscent of the Spider Queen. No thanks, power plant. I pass. Do I get my hand back?” he asked, wiggling his fingers uselessly for emphasis.

“Depends. You gonna press that button and call an Iron Man suit?” you countered.

He narrowed his eyes at you but shrugged after a second, assuming an affable air. “Can’t blame a guy for trying to defend himself from a very, very successful assassin.”

You frowned. “You’re different from what I expected. You’re similar to Howard, but… not. You’ve seen more. You’ve got that look in your eyes. I read up on you, but it’s still different- seeing it in person.”

Tony stiffened a bit at the mention of his father. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You grinned. “You should. Your father was insufferable.”

Tony looked caught between wanting to like you more for the comment and wanting to defend his father from the insults of a murderer. “Really? Because he never could shut up about you or Rogers. I think he’d have married you if Barnes hadn’t gotten to you first. Just imagine how smart I would’ve been with you as my mom. Actually, wait, scratch that. That entire thought. That’s creepy.”

That simple sentence pulled you up short and you stared at Tony, shell-shocked.

“I’m going to let your hand go now,” you said faintly. You released his hand and half-expected him to press the button immediately, but instead those intelligent brown eyes followed you as you walked a few steps and all but collapsed into the seat across from him.

“I gotta say, this is one of the oddest and more terrifying experiences of my life, and I’ve been to outer space, fought and alien army, and was kidnapped and tortured by terrorists” Tony said consideringly as he leaned back in his chair and looked you up and down.

Your mind was still scattered, but you managed to get a hold of your reason for coming here. “How much do you know about us?”

Tony frowned and tried to pretend that he wasn’t mildly terrified, as though you couldn’t notice all the tiny ticks that clued you into his nervousness. “‘Us’ as in Soviet-Hydra assassins, ‘us’ as in you and me, or ‘us’ as in you and the Mister?”

“Bucky and Me.”

Tony sighed. “Well, up until a few years ago, I knew what everyone else knew. You were Capsicle’s best friends, then you died in 1944. I know you were POWs in Azzano. And then that whole thing with SHIELD happened and- surprise!- the Barneses are still alive! Who would have guessed? Only they’re creepy brainwashed cyborg pod people who want to kill freedom.”

You stared at him for a moment before you tilted your head in acknowledgement. “A fairly accurate if not brief and mildly offensive account.”

Tony fiddled with a pen in his hands, just for something to do. “But I’m guessing you’re not here to talk about things I already know. I have a feeling you got onto this plane knowing I’d arrest you the second it landed, but you risked it anyway. Why?”

Your faintly glowing eyes finally locked with his, his question snapping you back to the task at hand. “My husband in innocent of the UN bombing.”

Tony only leaned forward, looking flippant. “Alright. I know this is probably going to come as a shock, but I don’t believe the word of a one-hundred year old formerly brainwashed terrorist.”

You clenched your jaw and breathed in deeply before you spoke. “I’m turning myself in as a sign of good faith. I know Bucky is being captured and transferred from Romania right now. I’ll submit to any psych evals you can throw at me. I’m not… always there, but we haven’t been under the control of Hydra since that day at SHIELD Headquarters back in 2014.”

Tony stared at you as he mulled that over. Finally, he tapped away at the Starkpad and you hoped that Alfred was still blocking outgoing transmissions. 

A hologram of your drone appeared on the screen. “Rhetorical question. This is yours, right?” he asked, flicking the screen towards you so a hologram of your drone materialized between you.

“Where did you get that?” you asked, swallowing thickly. He shouldn’t have been able to get his hands on one unless-

“Funny story about that. I was trying to make a heat seal at the bottom of the giant floating rock called Sokovia when this little guy came up and gave my suit a charge that- if I’m being honestly- it really needed. Probably saved millions of lives. The little guy dropped and started blinking dangerously and I knew it was about to blow up, but you don’t see tech this sleek and advanced every day, so I knocked it out with a very short range EMP and found it at the bottom of the lake around Sokovia once the dust had settled a bit.” He stared at the hologram, reaching up to rotate it and remove some of the plates so that he could see the parts underneath. “It’s a great design, really. Compact and deadly, but with highly advanced Identify Friend/Foe algorithms. When I asked the others about it after everything had died down Pietro had mentioned seeing a woman with a small swarm of them. Clint, too, and Steve refused to say anything even though Pietro said she seemed to know him.”

“Why didn’t you use it to find us?” you asked quietly. He could have at any time if he had the intact drone.

Tony ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, I tried. Most of the thing was still intact, but apparently the first thing the drone fried was its homing technology. It didn’t store anything about your patterns or whereabouts on its hard drive, either.

You ran a hand down your face and fought back the growing feeling of nausea, cursing yourself for not having checked to make sure the damn thing had been destroyed. You could have been captured a year ago and never seen it coming thanks to your oversight. Your eyes slipped to a spot on the wall behind him as you fought to get your breathing under control.

“Now, I’m not an idiot. No, that’s selling myself way short- I’m a genius. I knew it was you in Sokovia that day. But it wasn’t until a few days ago that I realized your boy toy was there, too. I could have guessed, but we didn’t find any robots with holes in the skulls, so we all safely guessed he wasn’t on the rock.” Your eyes snapped to him, brow furrowed with confusion, but he only grimaced. “Got cornered after a speech at MIT. A woman by the name of Miriam Sharpe. She was waiting by the elevator and I honest to god thought she was about to pull a gun on me, but instead she pulled out a photograph and slammed it against my chest.” Tony paused, eyes distant. You let him have a moment and, sure enough, his eyes refocused on you, a twitch of a smile appearing and disappearing in an instant. “She told me her son would never walk again. We dropped a building on him while we were busy kicking ass, but a Good Samaritan came and lifted the rubble off of him and carried him to a nearby shielded former Hydra base.” His smile turned melancholy. “Normal people can’t lift the rubble of an entire house off a kid by themselves, much less in a way that wouldn’t get him killed in the process. But the guy knew exactly how to do it. Carried him all the way back to the base- a five mile walk- in less than five minutes. Left the kid to be attended to by others as soon as he got there, but not before the kid saw the guy’s metal hand.” Tony’s tone while he retold the story was a bitter thing. He loathed not being able to protect everyone, you realized. Hated being the cause of the suffering.

You stared at him for a minute or two before you decided to answer. “Just because they made us into monsters doesn’t mean we have to be monsters. We have the luxury of free will now, even if we don’t really have the gift of stability.” You twiddled your fingers absently for a moment. “I agreed with you, by the way. About Ultron.” You frowned. “Well, not about it going all murdery-doomsday. That part was definitely not ideal.”

Tony’s stare turned a bit incredulous. “Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.”

You shrugged. “Steve, Tasha… the others, too, I’m sure. They haven’t… They haven’t seen the power of the Tesseract firsthand. I know it was used to create the wormhole, but… I know there’s more out there. What came through that portal was only a vanguard. Loki was only a pawn.”

Tony looked wary and considering. “And you know that how, exactly, oh mysterious one?”

You smiled grimly. “I had to work with it back in the 40′s. Arnim Zola tried some… unsavory things to understand it better, some including a… live test subject.” At the look of something resembling pity you turned away, knowing you didn’t deserve anything of the sort. “Ultron was a failure, but… Earth is woefully unprotected. The Avengers won’t be enough.”

Tony leaned back in his seat and blew out a long breath, eyes wide and surprised. “Wow, this is so not how I expected this conversation to go. I was thinking about 79% more shooting and 530% more electricity and kicking. Not agreement on my stupidest idea ever. Then again, you _are_ insane, so I shouldn’t really be surprised.”

You shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah, maybe. But genius and insanity are two sides of the same coin.”

Tony glared at you. “That’s a terrible phrase.”

“You’re only upset because it hit the nail on the head.”

Tony threw his hands up in the air and pinned you with a hard stare. “So, what? That’s it? You came here to talk to me? Beg for some sort of deal?”

You grimaced, on the wrong foot at the sudden change in topic. “Yes, that’s part of it. Bucky didn’t bomb the UN, which means someone framed him.”

“Which- if that’s all true and I’m still not sure it is- means that there’s something or someone dangerous planning behind the scenes.”

You nodded. “It’s the perfect time to strike; while the Avengers are split about the Accords and not communicating effectively or working together. I don’t know what Bucky has to do with this- if he’s just a pawn that’s played his part in a grand scheme, or if they’re not done with him yet- but I’m afraid moving by myself right now will only make things worse. For everyone.”

“So you came to me,” he seemed confused by that part, not that you blamed him; Steve seems the obvious choice.

“Steve doesn’t think clearly when we’re involved and he’s already gotten himself in a lot of trouble trying to save Bucky. You… you played nice with the UN. With my head on a silver platter, you’ll have a lot of sway with them.”

“You’d use yourself- your freedom- as a bargaining chip?” he asked, looking you up and down critically.

You stared at him unwaveringly. “If it means there’s a chance I can save my husband’s life and uncover whatever assholes are behind this? In a heartbeat.”

He stared at you for a long time, to the point that it was almost uncomfortable, before he nodded. “Alright, fine. I’ll see what I can do. There’ll be a lo-”

“Tony.” The sound of his name made him pause, fingertip halfway to his Starkpad, eyebrow raised in question. “There’s one more thing you should know about me and Bucky.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony learns the truth. Bucky gets taken to Berlin. Steve and Tony fight.  
> Your and Bucky’s future hangs in the balance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), blood, violence, mentions of murder/death

[Originally posted by prettyboyqueen](https://tmblr.co/ZIFowr2cWxs7E)

You didn’t try to block the hit. You saw it coming a mile away, but it wasn’t like you didn’t deserve it. 

The was a surprising amount of force behind it, but you reminded yourself that Tony spent most of his time in a workshop. Working with heavy machinery all day lent to more muscle than one would expect from a genius billionaire playboy.

Your head whipped to the side with the force of the blow and you’d barely turned your head to look back at him before the next blow came, his fist sending your head swiveling the other direction. 

He was probably being trained by someone- Steve, maybe Tasha?- because his knee came up with surprising swiftness and you felt the air rush out of your lungs. 

The blows didn’t stop and, predictably, the elbow came next, crashing into your face with a strength that probably would have concussed a normal person. As it was, you let the force of the blow topple you to the floor of the plane. 

Tony was on you instantly, eyes wild and shining with unshed tears as he rained blows upon you; everywhere from your face to your stomach. 

“You killed them!” he screeched, fury and grief twisting his face into something you almost didn’t recognize. “Give me my suit, FRIDAY!” he called to the AI, tone deadly.

“I’m afraid I can’t let that happen at the moment, Master Stark,” Alfred said quietly. He’d been told not to let Tony have any suits, but you’d told him not to interfere otherwise. This was a long time coming and you’d take whatever Stark would dole out without complaint.

Tony swore loudly and landed a few more haymakers on your face. One of them nearly disconnected the optic wires that connected your cybernetic eye, but the visual feed only shuddered dangerously before resuming normal function. You knew, however, that your eye would probably swell shut from the blow. 

“FRIDAY, override the AI. _Now_ ,” he barked. 

“I tried, boss, but they have control of those systems right now,” the female-voiced AI said. 

Tony cussed again and hopped off of you, but you made no move to get up. Your body ached distantly; it wasn’t the worst damage you’d suffered (not by a long shot) but your body still protested at the slightest movement. 

He picked up the twisted hunk of metal that was his pistol and gripped it in his fist as he stalked back over. 

_“Help my wife… please… help…”  
_

The video was playing on repeat in the background, Howard Stark’s dying plea filling the cabin, nearly drowned out by the sound of the hunk of metal being used as a blunt weapon against your face and body. You were fairly sure you felt your nose break and bit your tongue to choke back the scream of pain. 

_“(Y/N)…?”_

Tears leaked out of your eyes and slid down the sides of your face and into your hair, but you were too broken to know if they’re from the pain of the beating Tony was giving you or the pain of reliving that moment again.

“He recognized you and you still killed him! You killed your friend!” Tony yelled, red in the face now. Apparently the gun wasn’t satisfying enough because he returned to using his fists. Each time he hit you his knuckles came away bloodier, but you knew at least some of it was his. You could feel cuts and bruises on every inch of your face, but Tony wasn’t done yet. 

_“Howard! How-”_

Maria Stark’s voice acted like a match to a powder keg and Tony rose. You didn’t dare to hope it was over and you were rewarded for your wariness because a second later Tony was stomping down on your left leg, right at the junction between metal and flesh. 

You did scream then, the fake nerves on fire as your flesh ground against the metal plates. Even without having to look you knew it was bleeding at the seam of the metal. 

“I bet you made it quick, didn’t you? But not too quick, no. You had to make it look like an accident. First you had to run their car off the road. Then you had to make it look like they’d died in the impact, so you crushed my father’s head while your maggot of a husband choked the life out of my mom? Because bullets would have given it away. So you had to get up close and personal and do it. Isn’t that right?” he spat, as he stomped on your fingers and dug his heel into the meat of your hand, giving special focus to the area where the metal met skin.

You let yourself feel the pain. If you dissociated you’d become the Asset and Tony would be dead before he could blink. 

So you screamed as the wiring in your hands was pulled and tugged out of their places, blood and nerves left exposed. 

“Say something, you piece of shit!” he yelled as the video started over. You could hear the crash of the car hitting the tree. 

You blinked up at him, though it was getting hard as blood had started leaking into your eyes. He was taking in great heaving breaths and he had more than one spot of blood on his suit. 

And you remained silent, because what could you possibly say to this man? What could you ever do to make it right? There was nothing. 

He growled when you said nothing and was on top of you again in a flash, hunk of warped gun in his hand. He brought it above his head, raised and ready to strike a blow you knew would split your skull in two, enhancements or no, and closed your eyes. 

“Be sure of what you’re about to do, Anthony Edward Stark, because there’s no going back. For either of us.” It was hard to talk with a split lip and your face was already starting to well. It also didn’t help that your head was ringing from the blows, making it even harder to think.

_I’m so sorry.  
_

You felt him tense above you and you waited for the blow to come.

It felt like hours, though you knew it was only seconds. However, it was much longer than you’d been expecting. 

You cracked open a single eye- the only one you could open right then- and looked up at Tony. 

He was frozen, staring at you with such hatred that you nearly recoiled. His dark brown eyes met yours and that broke the spell.

He dropped the useless hunk of gun to the ground, taking you completely by surprise. His fingertips tapped away at his watch and you watched as it transformed into a small Iron Man gauntlet. You barely had time to think about how you should have noticed it before he was pointing it at you.

A huge blast of concussive energy hit you point blank and the world faded to black.

* * *

**Steve’s POV**

They flew them from Bucharest to Berlin. He, Sam, and T’Challa were under heavy guard the entire time, their suits, his shield, Sam’s wings and weapons all confiscated. 

The guard they had Bucky under paled in comparison. They’d put him in a sort of reinforced glass cage, but Steve never managed to glimpse his friend behind all of the guards and vehicles, only the reinforced container that no human being had any right being kept in.

“So you like cats?” 

Steve glanced behind himself at this friend, face serious. “Sam,” he chastised. This wasn’t the time to be provoking T’Challa.

“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don’t wanna know more?” Sam asked. From Steve’s spot in the van he could just barely see part of T’Challa’s face, but the warrior-king didn’t turn around to look at them. For all the reaction he showed, Sam might not have even spoken.

Sam had a point, at least, and Steve frowned at the back of T’Challa’s head. “Your suit. It’s Vibranium?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t accusatory. 

That, at least, got a reaction out of T’Challa, slight though it was. He turned his head enough to be able to see Steve out of his peripheral vision, expression neutral but unnaturally so, hiding the anger underneath. “The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle passed from warrior to warrior.” As he spoke his gaze returned to the front of the van. “And now because your friends murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king.” Steve recognized the loss in his voice- it was one he knew all too well. “So, I ask you… as both warrior and king-” he turned his head enough to stare at Steve, challenge and anger radiating off of him in waves despite his calm posture, “-how long do you think you can keep your friends safe from me?” 

Steve felt himself glaring at the threat so, instead of acting rashly, he turned his glower on the headrest of the driver’s seat and bit out, “You’ve got the wrong people.”

T’Challa didn’t answer that, but Steve could practically feel his dismissal in the man’s posture. 

* * *

The rest of the very short ride was suffered in silence. Steve watched through the metal grating that covered windows as the long line of military vehicles and cop cars turned into a large building. It was separated into two halves on either side of the river, connected by a sky bridge. 

The road tilted downward and the surroundings vanished as the van drove into the underground part of the complex. The tunnel was longer than Steve expected, but eventually the walls opened again to reveal a large, bunker-like room. 

By the time they let Steve, Sam, and T’Challa out of the van Bucky had already been unloaded from the huge armored van. He was looking around at the guards as they checked the cage in a sort of resigned way.

The MP standing between him and Bucky’s cage gestured to someone behind Steve so he turned and was surprised to see Sharon standing next to a short man in a grey suit that had an air of self importance that immediately grated on Steve’s nerves. Steve hoped his face remained impassive; Sharon was supposed to be guarding (Y/N), not helping wrangle the situation in Berlin. She barely glanced at him, the only outward sign of nervousness the way she shifted from foot to foot.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Steve asked the two of them, all business as he stalked towards them, T’Challa and Sam close behind.

“Same thing that oughta happen to you,” the man in the suit said with a smarmy smile. “Psychological evaluation and extradition.” He looked pleased as hell and Steve wanted to punch him in the face.

Sharon seemed to sense this and quickly spoke up. “This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander.” Steve didn’t miss the way she couldn’t seem to make eye contact with him. 

“What about their lawyer?” 

If anything, Ross’ smile became even more smug. “Lawyer. That’s funny.” Sharon glanced at Ross, frown on her face, but said nothing. “See that their weapons are placed in lockup,” he said, head tilting towards the MPs escorting the three of them. “Oh, we’ll write you a receipt,” he said, all false geniality. 

“I better not look out the window and see anyone flying around in that,” Sam said testily. Ross, however, paid him no mind and was already walking deeper into the building with Steve, T’Challa, and Sam following warily behind. Steve threw one last look over his shoulder, just in time to see reinforced concrete doors shut with Bucky behind them. The defeated look on his face made Steve feel like there was a hot knife twisting in his gut.

He’d failed you.

They made it all of five feet before Ross paused and pulled his phone out of his pocket (Steve had no idea how the man had cell service down here). Whoever was talking to him on the other end of the line gave him something to smile about and Steve felt a little bit of dread curl in the pit of his stomach. Steve had decided within five seconds of meeting the man that whatever made him smile was something to be concerned about. 

He turns a triumphant smile on Steve and holds his arms out grandly. “I hope you enjoyed your brief stint, Captain. We’re going to have a nice long conversation about why you tried to stop my men from apprehending Barnes, but the good guys come out on top in the end. Stark’s on his way and he’s bringing something that’ll make my year,” Ross said, hands clasped together as though praying to some deity for making his life. 

Neither he, Sam, nor T’Challa took the obvious bait, but Sharon- thanks to her job- had to ask, “What’s the situation, sir?” 

Ross turned a megawatt smile on her. “We have the matching set! I honestly thought she’d go to ground after we caught her accomplice, but Stark’s bringing the illustrious Misses Barnes with him. His helicopter’s due to land in a few minutes!” he said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “Both Winter Soldiers in one day! Pinch me, I’m dreaming!” he gushed as he turned away again and practically strutted towards the doors.

Steve’s eyes were wide, looking between Sharon and Ross in horror. She looked as confused as he did, but hastily turned and trailed after her boss. 

The MPs shoved him forward and Steve’s brain kicked back into gear, feet quickly eating up the gap that had grown between him and Ross. He could hear Sam trying to keep up and knew, even though he couldn’t hear him, T’Challa was close behind. 

The guards kept Steve from getting too close to Ross and Sharon was just as clueless as he was, so it was a bit of relief when the elevator doors opened and Natasha stepped out and immediately made a beeline for him, expression severe.

“For the record, this is what making things worse looks like,” she said as she went to stand beside him. 

Steve didn’t look at her, just watched as Ross and Sharon disappeared into one of the elevators while they waited for the next one. “He’s alive.” He glanced at her, then, and saw that she was glancing around warily. “What Ross said about Tony having (Y/N). Is that true?” 

He could see her green eyes flick up to him and then away again. “We’ll see in a few minutes. Stark is landing any second now.” 

The elevator ride to the operations room was awkward at best. Sam, Steve, and Natasha all crammed into one elevator with guards while T’Challa rode in a different one. 

When the doors finally opened Steve was met with a hive of activity and a plethora of screens monitoring just about everything in the building, including where Bucky was being held. 

A set of doors on the other end of room opened and Tony marched through, looking thunderous. 

Ross, however, didn’t seem to notice. “There’s the Iron Man of the hour! We’ve already sent teams up to secure the fugitive. I’m assuming she’s being contained by one of your inventions, so-” 

Tony glared at him. “Actually she’s just unconscious. Have at ‘er,” he said bitterly. In all the years he’d known Tony, Steve had only heard him talk like that once or twice, all regarding painful things. For someone who had apparently apprehended one of the most dangerous assassins in the world, he seemed surprisingly… fine? Physically, at least.

So when Tony looked around the room, spotted Steve through the glass of the meeting room, and glared, Steve felt his hackles rise. He left Ross gaping as he cut a warpath through the room, directly to Steve. 

Natasha put a hand on his shoulder to slow him down, but he brushed it aside and placed a hand to the center of Steve’s chest, pushing him backwards until he hit the wall. 

The entire room around them froze, everyone carefully assessing what was happening. 

“Did you know?” Tony hissed between clenched teeth, dark brown eyes searching. 

Steve was floored. The only other time Tony had acted like this towards him was when they were all being influenced by Loki’s scepter. “What are you talkin-” he began, but Tony’s face twisted with anger.

“Did you know they killed my parents?” he yelled. If Steve wasn’t enhanced, the fingers on his chest would have been painful. Now that Steve really looked, he could tell Tony was on the verge of crying.

The world fell out from under Steve’s feet for a moment. Sure, he’d had his suspicions. After spending so much time researching and looking for the Winter Soldiers, he probably knew more about them than just about anyone else (not even counting what he knew about them _before_ they were brainwashed and enhanced). He thought they might be responsible, but to tell Tony that without proof? Bring up that pain again when he couldn’t be sure? What was the point?

“I didn’t know it was them,” Steve answered, heart clenching painfully. 

Tony grabbed him by the shirt and tugged him forward, eyes going a bit manic. “Don’t bullshit me, Rogers,” he hissed venomously. “Did. You. Know?” 

Steve stared at Tony- his friend- searchingly. There was no point in softening the blow, was there? No sense in lying, not about something so important. He clenched his jaw, mouth set in a tight line. “Yes.”

Tony reeled as if he’d been struck and took a step back, Steve’s shirt falling from his grasp. Steve watched him, wary, as Stark turned half away from him, chest heaving. When he glanced down it took him a second to realize what he was seeing.

Tony’s knuckles had been reduced to a bloody mess.

It all clicked into place. “Tony, what did you-”

Steve saw the hit coming but he was too stunned by the sudden turn of events to find the wherewithal to block or dodge it.

Tony’s bloody fist connected with the side of Steve’s head, though Steve had a feeling Tony had taken more damage than he did. Blood that wasn’t his own coated his jaw and Steve stared at Tony, shocked. Natasha and Sam were between them in an instant because Tony looked like he wanted to go after Steve again. 

“She had a recording of it, you know! Of them killing my parents! I got to watch her bash my dad’s skull in and hear the gasps from my mom as he squeezed the life out of her!” Tony seethed, eyes wild and dangerous. 

Steve’s hand drifted up of its own accord and swiped at the blood. “It wasn’t them, Tony. Hydra had control of their minds.” 

Tony barely blinked. “I don’t care. They killed my mom.” 

Steve didn’t know what to say to that. Tony wasn’t thinking straight right now, not that Steve could blame him. Trying to get him to see- to understand- would be nigh impossible right now. 

“Tony!” It was Natasha who spoke up, voice clear and demanding enough that he finally looked away from Steve, though the wild, hunted look in his eyes didn’t go away. “I know you’re hurting right now, but it’s done. They’ve been captured. What happens to them next isn’t up to us. Any of us,” she said, looking between Steve and Tony pointedly at that last sentence. The hint of sadness in her voice might have slipped under the radar for the others, but Steve recognized it for what it was. 

Tony’s hand remained clenched at this sides and he looked carefully from Steve, to Natasha, and to all the gawking onlookers before he turned and stalked away before sitting down almost violently at one of the free chairs in the room.

Despite what people thought, Steve knew when to leave well enough alone. This was a fight for another day, when Tony had some time to process what had happened. 

A flurry of activity at the other end of the room caught his attention and, when his enhanced vision let him see the the feed from the cameras on the roof, he found himself walking forward, needing to get a closer look.

He ignored the protests of the people at their stations and stared, horrified, as a team wheeled you out on a gurney, oxygen mask over your mouth and nose. Your face was so swollen and bloody that Steve could hardly recognize you. In fact, if it wasn’t for the metal legs and golden wiring, he wouldn’t have been able to. 

A medical team- surrounded by heavily armed guards- was swarming around you as they led you into the building. Steve could see the heavy metal restraints tying your legs in place. Imposing but decidedly less powerful restraints held your arms in place. He could see Natasha walk up beside him out of the corner of his eye, but his eyes were riveted to the screen in front of him. 

“Who did this?” Steve asked, as calmly and evenly as he could manage. Even before Hydra got a hold of her and Bucky (Y/N) was a force to be reckoned with. That she’d been subdued- even by Tony or a large group of elite soldiers- was practically laughable. Well, no. Tony could do it but- “Don’t answer that. I already know,” Steve said, turning slowly to stare at Tony who had his back to the two of them. 

Natasha glanced between them, eyes lingering on the screen that was following your progress through the halls of the compound. “You don’t know what happened, Steve.”

Steve turned an unimpressed stare on her as Sam walked up and whistled lowly at the screen, looking away when he got a particularly high res image of the damage. “She’s beat black and blue and the only damage he has is on his knuckles? Want to explain to me how that one happened, Nat?” he snarled. 

Sam nodded, though he looked less than thrilled by this news. “Don’t get wounds like that in an Iron Man suit and something tells me he’d have more than a few scrapes on his knuckles if she was fighting him for real.” 

Natasha’s mouth was set in a hard line, but even she couldn’t deny that. Knowing he was right, Steve looked over her head at Ross, who was talking to people on a radio. “You’re going to stabilize her and treat her wounds, right?” he asked, tone leaving little room for arguments. 

Ross, however, was nearly foolish in his righteousness. “Can’t get information from her if she’s dead,” was all the answer he gave before he turned back to the monitors. 

It was a yes, backhanded as it was, and a tiny weight was taken off his shoulders. They wouldn’t let you die because they needed you. He could work with that for now.

“This way,” Natasha said quietly, jerking her head ever so slightly in the direction of the glass box of a conference room in the center of the operations center. Steve gave Ross and the monitors one last glance before he followed her, Sam following closely. Tony glared at them as they passed, but Steve couldn’t look at him right then. He was too angry.

The doors slid closed silently behind Sam and they took a seat the table. To Steve’s surprise Sharon came in hot on their heels, face unreadable. “She’s being taken to medical under heavy guard. Her injuries aren’t life-threatening. It was a sonic blast that knocked her unconscious, not the head trauma. We’re trying to get a scan but it’s difficult with all of the tech in her head. We think nothing’s broken, but they can’t be sure without more information.” 

Steve leaned back in his seat and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He saw Natasha do the same, though more subtly. “Does Bucky know? That she’s here?” 

Sharon frowned slightly and turned away to watch the screens; one of (Y/N) in the medical wing, the other of Bucky in his pod. From the looks of it, they’d sent someone in to talk to him. She shook her head. “Ross wants to keep him as calm as possible for the time being. Chances are that once she’s been stabilized and had some time to heal she’ll be used as leverage to get information from him. A lot of what they do and where they’ve been is a mystery, but one thing always seems to hold true; they’re always together.”

Steve tried to hold back a glower and probably failed. “Because they’re still in there. They still love each other.” 

Sharon’s gaze slid from the monitors to Steve, but Steve looked away, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes. “They were also partners for years, Steve. If our data’s correct they went on hundreds of missions together. That could easily be the reason why they stay together. Either way, it seems like the best way to coerce them into talking.” 

Steve sighed and buried his face in his hands, taking a second to collect his thoughts. “She seemed convinced that someone was out there pulling the strings- something we didn’t see. What if she was right?” 

Natasha frowned and leaned forward slightly. “What are you talking about, Steve?” 

Steve spotted the photo- the one of “Bucky” next to the news van- on the desk and picked it up, showing it to the other three. “Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?” 

Sharon shrugged, gesturing halfheartedly with her hand. “Get the word out? Involve as many eyes as we can?” she suggested with a little shake of her head.

Steve nodded. “Right. That’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding.” 

“Set of a bomb, get your picture taken,” Natasha said quietly, green eyes calculating as she watched Steve closely. 

“Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldiers,” Steve added.

Sharon nodded, eyes downcast as she thought about it. “You’re saying someone framed them to find them.” 

Sam shook his head, fingers laced together on the table in front of him. “Steve, we looked for them for two years and found nothing.” 

“We didn’t bomb the UN,” Steve countered.

Natasha nodded minutely. “That turns a lot of heads.” 

Sharon was staring at the ground, hand on her hip as she thought about it. “Yeah but that doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would.”

There was a pause in which the words sunk in, then the four of them looked up at the screen showing Bucky’s cell, eyes widening in understanding. 

“Yeah,” Steve said gravely as he stared at the image of the psychologist’s back.

As if on cue, the lights in the room flickered and died and the emergency lights turned on, bathing the room in a red glow. Sam perked up immediately but Natasha was out of her seat in an instant, looking at the people around her. 

Steve turned in a slow circle before his gaze finally fell on Sharon. 

She took one look at him and steeled herself. “Sub-level five, East Wing.” 

Sam, Steve, and Natasha were headed for the door before she’d even finished talking.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Soldier is let loose in the agents in Berlin. He has one mission with two objectives: retrieve the partner and escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), violence, guns, blood, death  
> A/N: So much beef in so few gifs.

[Originally posted by yourboi-steverogers-imagines](https://tmblr.co/ZqwNAj2NfzGt3)

**Bucky’s POV**

The lights went out and the backup lights painted the cell red. Bucky immediately knew something was wrong. 

“What the hell is this?” he rasped, turning to glare at the shrink. 

The man just leaned forward slightly, as though the power hadn’t just been cut. “Why don’t we discuss your home? Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no.” He flipped the top of his bag open and pulled out The Red Book and Bucky felt a chill go down his spine at the very sight of it. 

It was supposed to be gone. You and Bucky had searched for it for years but whoever had it was in the wind. With the rest of Hydra demolished, you’d stopped looking. 

“I mean your real home,” the man- who Bucky could say with confidence was not a psychoanalyst- said darkly. 

He took his glasses off and set them aside, and Bucky realized, all at once, that this was really happening. Hydra had found him and they had the book and apparently no one- not even Steve- was aware of what was about to happen. They’d stop it otherwise… right? Or was this their plan all along? Turn him into the Asset and pick the Hydra secrets from his brain? 

The man took a small flashlight from his pocket to light up the page and Bucky’s mouth parted, fear taking a hold of him in a way it hadn’t in decades. 

The Russian was heavily accented and nearly mispronounced, but it was enough for Bucky’s brain to recognize. 

_“Longing.”_

Even that single word made his brain start to frizzle and he shook his head, eyes closing as he fought to keep control. “No,” he breathed, head thudding heavily against the headrest as his eyes opened and his jaw trembled. 

_“Rusted.”_

“Stop,” he whispered, voice taking on a hint of pleading. The numbness in his mind was coming on worryingly fast. 

_“Seventeen.”_

He gritted his teeth, metal fist clenching as his fear turned to anger. “Stop,” he ordered, putting as much power behind it as he could. _Have to do something. Getting harder to think. Have to do something._

_“Daybreak.”_

He screamed as he clenched his fist and pulled. The metallic clamp on his left arm miraculously came undone and his free arm made quick work of the ones on his right. 

_“Furnace.”_

He scrambled up from the chair and punched at the glass. Had to get out. Had to stop the man from talking. The words would reset his brain. That was bad. The blow was enough to startle the man, who slowly began circling around the glass dome. 

_“Nine.”_

He grunted and clenched his teeth as he whaled away at the glass door. _Through the glass, incapacitate the target._ His fist left divots in the glass, but it refused to budge. 

_“Benign.”_

His mouth was open, panting heavily. He couldn’t remember why he needed to get through the glass. It was the mission. _Why is it the mission? Doesn’t matter, complete the mission._ A spiderweb of cracks began to appear on the door.

_“Homecoming.”_

The cracks began radiating outward. _Close. So close to stopping the words._ The target must have sensed this because he wasted no time in getting to the next one. He barely had time to get another punch in before-

_“One.”_

He yelled with every punch, putting his entire body behind each blow. 

_“Freight Car.”_

Its fist finally sent the door flying, but its mind went blank at the exact same moment. 

The Asset rose slowly and stood still, staring blankly ahead while it awaited orders. 

_“Soldier?”_ he inquired. Checking to see if The Asset was functional. 

The Asset was breathing heavily, though it didn’t know why. _“Ready to comply.”_

The handler stared at it, but the Asset knew not to look at him. “Mission report. December 16, 1991.”

* * *

The handler gave it orders after it gave its report; escape the complex and regroup at the Siberian base. 

It heard the footsteps from where the handler told it to wait. The blond one went to the handler immediately, giving it more than enough time to sneak up on the second man that came through the doorway. It grabbed him by the jaw and threw him into the wall of the large containment cell. He landed hard enough to become dazed, but the blond man was already advancing on him, the handler forgotten. 

The blond man fought hard and his punches and kicks hurt it more than he thought possible. He was even able to keep up with the flurry of blows it was throwing at him. 

That was until it backed him into the elevator doors. He caught the fist in his hands, but it used all of its considerable strength. The door crumpled and the blond man fell down the elevator shaft. 

It didn’t spare him a glance and turned to walk away, threats taken care of. The second man stirred but it had better things to do than kill him. 

If it was here, then its partner was here, too. It had to find the other Asset before it could return. It was too important to Hydra to leave behind.

It made its way up to a lobby area, ruthlessly dispatching soldiers in its way as it went. 

It dispatched two more and aimed a handgun to end one of their lives, but a head-pounding noise distracted it. It turned towards the source: A man in orange-red tinted glasses and a suit. His hand was covered in some sort of red and silver metal contraption, but its head cleared enough that it advanced on the man without hesitation, only to be blinded when the thing on his hand flashed. 

It could hear the man approaching so by the time he was close it was ready for him, handgun swiveling in his direction. The man was fast and well trained, but it was better. It pointed the gun at his face and pulled the trigger, but the device on his hand blocked the bullet. When it pulled the gun away the man yanked the slide off. He smirked triumphantly for a split second before he whipped it across its face with the hunk of metal. It shoved its right elbow into his face in retaliation, followed by a punch that had the man flying into one of the chairs, then collapsing onto the floor. 

It didn’t get a chance to finish him because a blond woman came from the stairwell and ran at it. They exchanged a few blows, but the Asset saw the redhead running for him, so he had to dispatch her quickly to face the new threat. Something told him that this one was different. Dangerous.

It landed a good hit, but the redhead took her place. A shot to the crotch with her shin and a followup to the same spot with her fist stunned it long enough that the blond was able to recover and kick him in the face. She went for a second one, but it grabbed her leg and threw her on the tables, which shattered under the force. It didn’t get a second of reprieve; the redhead was on its back the moment it stood straight again. She grappled around its torso until her legs wrapped around its neck. Blows from her elbows rained down on its head, but it was too focused on the mission to really notice. It slammed her down on the table, hand immediately going around her throat. Her knees closed and she used all of her strength to try and push it away, but it didn’t budge. Her face was rapidly turning red. She was too dangerous to leave alive. 

_“You could at least recognize me, Yashenka,”_ she gasped. 

He didn’t flinch; he simply stared as the life slowly drained from her eyes.

Until another obstacle appeared. 

The man- dressed head to toe in black clothing- kicked the Asset away from the redhead, going after him with a fury and power that the Asset knew was deadly. He was, however, acting based on emotion, which meant the Asset could win. 

He kicked the man away and headed for the stairs, needing to complete the mission: find the partner and return to base. 

Except the man made a jump that would have been impossible for a normal human and landed directly in front of him. The Asset knew he would have to fight this man a little longer before he could escape. 

When the man realized he couldn’t lock the Asset’s arm he threw both of them down the stairs. 

They traded a few more blows, but the man managed to get a few shots in on him and kick him over the railing. 

It was only for a few seconds that the man lost vision of the Asset, but that was more than enough time for him to slip away. 

* * *

He found the partner in a wing filled with machines and people in white coats that made his skin crawl. She was beaten and bloody and whatever the scurrying rats had done to her had knocked her out. He carefully removed the needles they’d stuck her with. The restraints were slightly harder to deal with; they took all of his strength to break through. She was as limp as a rag doll when he picked her up from the bed and threw her over his shoulder. 

His left arm was free, handgun gripped carefully. Now that he had the partner he could make his escape. Hydra would be pleased that he didn’t leave her behind. 

Any enemies that tried to stop him on his way to the roof got a bullet in the brain before they could even raise their guns. It was one thing to threaten him. Another entirely to threaten the partner. 

He placed her in the back seat of the helicopter and took off the wires tethering it to the platform. The door slammed shut and he locked it, warming it up quickly before anyone else could come to stop him. The door to the complex opened and the blond man took one look at the helicopter and rushed it, but the Asset had already begun takeoff. He knew he would be fine now that he was off the ground, except-

Except the blond man leapt into the air and grabbed a hold of the landing skids and the entire thing tilted dangerously to the side. The Asset corrected it and put more power into the rotors, but the man had grabbed hold of one of the metal bars at the edge of the platform. 

[Originally posted by simplytanvi](https://tmblr.co/ZMS1Bs264AJoG)

Inexplicably, the helicopter couldn’t pull away from the blond. If anything, the distance between the helicopter and the platform was shrinking the longer he pulled. 

There were other ways to get out of the city. This, however, was a lost cause. 

The Asset tilted the controls violently to the left and the chopper immediately crashed against the platform, but the blond man jumped out of the way just in time. He avoided the rotors on both the top and the tail, but he was so winded and distracted, he didn’t realize how close the Asset was until he’d already punched through the glass and wrapped a hand around his neck. The Asset could feel the helicopter tipping off the edge, but the greater threat was in front of him. The blond man gripped helplessly at the edge, trying to stop it from going over, but it was going down.

And the Asset was taking the blond with him. 

But when the helicopter hit the water the Asset was rocketed forward. His head collided painfully with the windshield and everything went black.

* * *

**Your POV**

“Hey, Cap! We got movement.” 

You blinked blearily, head swimming in the way it only did when you’d been drugged. It took you a moment to realize why the world seemed so flat; one of your eyes was swollen shut. After about three seconds of being conscious you came to the conclusion that you weren’t in any sort of official compound. 

There weren’t any guards.

“Thank god you’re awake.” 

You tilted your head up only to spot Steve and the Falcon- Sam- staring at you somewhat apprehensively. A flash of red caught your attention and you focused one beady eye on Natalia, who you honestly hadn’t expected to see. 

“Hey, kid,” you said quietly, inclining your head towards her. “What am I doing here? Where’s Tony?” you whispered, wincing when talking aggravated your split lip. 

Their faces clouded over and you knew whatever it was, it was bad. Bad enough to have the five of you hiding out in an old rundown industrial building. 

“Someone was trying to set you and Bucky up, just like you said. The doctor planned it all; managed to get into the room with Bucky, somehow triggered the Winter Soldier. He didn’t recognize any of us,” Steve explained grimly.

That got you sitting upright, suddenly alert. This was the worst case scenario. “Where is he?” you rasped as you struggled to your feet. You hissed in pain as the movement pulled at the juncture of metal and flesh on your legs. Tony had really done a number on you. Natasha was by your side in an instant, lending you a hand that you only took after searching her face very, very carefully. 

Steve shifted to his other foot and tilted his head towards a place farther in the building. “We have him restrained. He was knocked unconscious trying to escape with you, but we don’t know who he’s going to wake up as; Bucky or the Soldier,” he explained.

You felt your mouth flatten into a hard line. “That’s… that’s for the best. I should be the only one there when he wakes up, just in case.” 

But Sam was having none of it. “You really think we’ll let you be alone with him?” he asked, incredulous. 

Steve and Natasha exchanged a glance and you didn’t like the looks they shared. It was Natasha who tried to reason with you. “What if seeing you only makes it worse?”

You glowered at her. “And what about if he wakes up and tries to kill you all? I could be the only one that could talk to him,” you hissed at her.

She sighed and looked back at Steve. They had another one of those silent conversations and after a moment Steve looked back to you and nodded. “We’ll wait together. Deal?”

You narrowed your one good eye at him, but recognized this was the best compromise you were going to get. “Fine.”

* * *

[Originally posted by buckysqueenbitch](https://tmblr.co/Z65kJe2Mt9DAt)

Bucky stirred about a half hour after you’d woken up. It took him a moment to take in his surroundings, looking numbly from the dirty cement floor to his arm, which was pinned in a heavy metal press.

He didn’t spot you immediately, gaze instead falling to Steve. 

“Steve,” he rasped, groaning as he tried to sit up. It was then that his gaze slid to you and you could see the exact moment in which he recognized you and catalogued your injuries. “Babydoll,” he whispered, dismayed. He made to move towards you, but the metal press kept him firmly in place. The way he’d tugged at the metal arm had looked almost painful. You were sure if it had been his flesh one he would have pulled his arm from its socket. 

“Hey, Buck,” you whispered, lip tilting up in an aborted smile. You glanced at Steve, then at Natasha and Sam who were watching from the doorway. “He’s not the Soldier right now. You can come here,” you told them. Natasha immediately walked into the nearly empty room with Sam trailing reluctantly behind. 

“How do we know?” Steve asked warily. 

Bucky’s gaze was focused mostly on you, concern swimming in his eyes. He spared Steve a glance. “Your mom’s name was Sarah… you used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

Steve’s lips parted in surprise. “Can’t read _that_ in a museum.”

Sam, however, stared at Steve with raised, judgemental eyebrows. “Just like that we’re supposed to be cool?” 

“What did I do?” Bucky finally tore his gaze away from you to look at the room at large. Steve and Natasha had given you the rundown of what had happened while you’d been unconscious, but that didn’t mean you wanted to burden Bucky with everything just then. Instead of answering you stood and walked over to him, ignoring Sam’s noise of protest. 

Bucky’s arm went around your legs, just beneath your butt, his forehead resting against your stomach. You ran your fingers through his hair and tried to sooth some of the tension from his shoulders. You weren’t sure who was using the other for support more. 

“Enough,” Natasha said quietly. 

Bucky sighed into the fabric of your still-damp shirt. “Oh, god. I knew this would happen. Everything Hydra put inside us is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.” 

“Who was he?” you asked, carefully avoiding the cut on his head as you gently scratched at his scalp. 

“I don’t know,” Bucky answered instantly. 

“People are dead. The bombing, the setup; the doctor did all that just to get ten minutes with you. I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know’,” Steve said firmly but not unkindly. 

Bucky was silent for a few moments, thinking. “He wanted to know about Siberia. Where we were kept,” he admitted eventually, tilting his head up to look at Steve. Your fingers stilled in his hair, dread freezing the blood in your veins. 

Siberia. 

Flashes of the horrible, cold cryo pods. The chair. Mission after mission. Scientists in bloodstained lab coats. Worst of all, flashes of _them_. The others. The monstrous killing machines that could best even you and Bucky. Cold, dark metal bars and the sound of cracking bones as they killed the handlers and scientists. 

“He wanted to know exactly where,” Bucky said, head tilted to the side consideringly. 

“Why would he need to know that?” Natasha asked, brow furrowed ever so slightly. She didn’t like not knowing what was in Siberia. 

You stared into the middle distance, hands frozen in place. “Because we’re not the only Winter Soldiers,” you murmured.

There was silence as that sentence sunk in, but you and Bucky were trapped twenty-five years in the past with ruthless killers just as fast and strong as Steve, but without any of his restraint and morals. Erskine’s words from seventy-five years ago rang in your head, a memory unearthed for the first time in just as many years: _Good becomes great. Bad… becomes worse._

“Who were they?” Steve asked from his spot against the wall, arms crossed.

“Their most elite death squad,” Bucky explained. “More kills than anyone in Hydra history. And that was before the serum,” he added grimly. 

“They all turn out like you two?” Sam asked from his spot in the doorway. 

You ignored the jab. “Worse,” you said quietly.

“The Doctor. Could he control them?” Natasha asked, standing closer to the two of you than Steve or Sam. 

“Enough,” Bucky admitted. 

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall,” Steve said, blue eyes stormy as he tried to piece together what was going on. 

Bucky leaned forward slightly, serious. “With these guys he could do it. They speak thirty languages, hide in plain sight.”

“Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize,” you murmured.

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “They can take a whole country down in one night, you’d never see them coming.” 

The three of them exchanged a look and after a moment Steve nodded to Natasha, who walked over and released Bucky’s arm from the metal clamp. She walked back to Sam and Steve who had their heads together talking, but not before you gave her a tiny smile and a “Thanks.” She smiled at you, though you knew it was fake. Her real smile looked nothing like that. 

“What happened to you, Doll?” Bucky whispered as he ran his thumb ever so lightly over your cheeks, blue eyes immeasurably sad. 

You smiled softly, though a gasp escaped your lips as the tiny movement aggravated your injuries. “I showed Tony the recording.”

Bucky’s thumb stilled and you swore he stopped breathing for a second. His arms engulfed you in a hug in the next heartbeat and you carefully maneuvered your face where it wouldn’t be jammed into his shoulder or neck. “Why didja do that, Baby?” he whispered brokenly. 

You carefully perched your chin on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his waist. “He had to know, Buck. The very least we owe him is the truth,” you said quietly, breath ghosting the tips of his hair. 

He was quiet for a long minute, the only sound murmurs from Sam, Steve, and Natasha in the adjacent room (you could only make out that they were talking, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Bucky could hear their every word). “Is he why your face looks like a painting by Picasso?” 

You were so surprised by the joke that you actually snorted. You could feel Bucky’s silent laughter which turned into a genuine quiet chuckle when you slapped him lightly on the back in recompense. “Rude,” you said through muffled laughter.

He smiled and placed a kiss to your hair, leaning far back enough to gaze at you adoringly with those stunning blue-grey eyes. “I always think you’re beautiful, (Y/N).” 

You smiled at him and brushed a bloody lock of hair from his face. “From the moment I met you, James Buchanan Barnes-” you paused and placed a kiss to the tip of his nose, “-I knew you were full of shit.” 

His grin lit up his whole face, and you knew that, just for a second, you’d managed to make him forget what the both of you had just been put through. 

Reality, however, came crashing back down in the form of one Sam Wilson making a disgusted noise. “These are the two greatest assassins of the twentieth century?” he said, grimacing at the two of you tangled in each other’s arms. 

Bucky shrugged and stared over your shoulder at the three interlopers. “As far as I know we’re the best assassins of the first fourteen years of the twenty-first century, too.” You smacked him gently on the head for that one and his gaze dropped to you, though he didn’t look the least bit chagrined. “What? I’m not allowed to be honest, too?” he asked, eyebrow raised challengingly. You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to chew him out, but Steve cut you off before you could (lucky Bucky). 

“The doctor is after the Winter Soldiers at that old base, which means we need to get there before he does. He has a head start, so we need to get a move on,” he said, all Captain America.

“They’re going to try to stop us,” you said, turning in Bucky’s lap to get a better look at them. 

Natasha nodded gravely. “Probably. The only question is who ‘they’ will end up being.” 

You sighed. “Tony hates us. I’m sure he’ll want to make it personal.” 

Bucky nodded along. “T’Challa definitely wants to kill me, at the very least. Probably (Y/N), too.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. “T’Challa? Who the hell is that?” 

“The prince of Wakanda and heir apparent after the doctor blew up the UN building, killed King T’Chaka, and framed tall, dark, and brooding over there,” Sam said, gesturing vaguely to Bucky. 

Natasha and Steve glanced at each other. “If Tony’s coming he’s not showing up in a three piece suit again,” Steve said with a scowl. 

“And Rhodey won’t be far behind,” Natasha finished ominously. 

“What are the chances of them trying to bring the twins and Vision in?” Sam asked, looking wary at the very thought. 

Natasha raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “If they think it’ll help stop us? One hundred percent likely.”

Steve frowned at the ground, thinking, before looking back up at Natasha. “Do you think Barton will come if we call?” 

Natasha grinned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “He’d show up at the drop of a hat. You know that.” 

Steve smiled a little bitterly. “I don’t know that I do. Not anymore.” He sighed and seemed to make up his mind. “Give him a call. Have him drop by the Avengers base and pick up Wanda and Pietro.” 

Sam crossed his arms across his chest and leveled Steve with an assessing stare. “How d’you know they’re gonna take our side?” 

Natasha stared at him, assessing. “He doesn’t. He’s going to take the risk, though. Without them we’re hopelessly out-manned and out-gunned. We won’t make it out of the city, much less the country and all the way to the bunker.” 

“So, what? We’re gonna fight Iron Man, War Machine, Catman, and Vision with what? Our fists? Our gears still in lockup and not all of us have metal arms and jet engines in our feet,” Sam said. You had a feeling he would do exactly that if Steve asked, despite his protests.

Natasha already had her phone out. “Let me handle getting the gear back.” She moved to leave, but Steve stepped towards her and she stopped and looked up from her phone to stare at him, green eyes wary. 

“Are you sure they don’t know you helped us?” he asked, concerned. 

She rolled her eyes at him, lips tilting up in a smile that was more genuine than anything else you’d seen from her today. “Please, Steve. You insult me,” she teased. When he only stared at her, frown plastered firmly on his face, she sighed and placed a hand gently on his bicep. “I’ll be fine, Steve. Promise. Keep out of sight until I get back.” And with that she ducked around him, her heels clicking away on the cement until they eventually faded to nothingness.

You glanced at Bucky as subtly as you could and from the look on his face he was thinking the same thing. _“Do you think she likes him?”_ Bucky asked quietly.

There was the sound of metal on metal as you and Bucky got more comfortable, you pulling your legs up onto his lap. _“I’m not sure. If she does, though, it’s a little…”_

_“Weird?”_ Bucky finished, frowning. 

You nodded. _“Natalia is almost like our kid. I know she’s biologically older than us at this point, but…”_

Bucky nodded sagely. _“Steve’s a cradle-robber.”_

You gasped, drawing the attention of Sam and Steve who’d only been half pretending to not listen. _“Did I tell you about what happened when Peggy’s niece took the podium? I think there’s something going on there.”_

Bucky turned a baleful eye on his friend but it was apparently personable or recognizable enough that Steve didn’t look afraid, just confused. _“First our Natalia and now Peggy’s niece. He’s a deviant.”_

You nodded along, also turning an appraising stare on Steve. _“If it comes between Sharon or Natalia, though, my vote is for Natalia. Sharon isn’t good enough for him.”_

_“What do you mean?”_ Bucky asked, diverting his attention from Steve to you.

_“I disarmed her and knocked her unconscious while chained up. Natalia would never have let that happen,”_ you said, glowering at the very thought. Anyone who could be defeated so easily would only be a hindrance to Steve in the long run. 

Bucky thought about it with a frown, but eventually nodded reluctantly. _“Fine, fine. You win. Natalia it is.”_ He didn’t sound happy about it.

You lifted your eyes to find Steve and Sam staring at you with varying levels of wariness. “Y’all done?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised. 

Bucky glared at him. _“I hate him.”_

You smacked Bucky gently and turned a smile on Sam. “Don’t suppose either of you have a pack of cards to pass the time until Tasha gets back?”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some help from Agent 13, the battle at the airport begins. T’Challa and Tony are out for blood and anything goes in the fight between super people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the 2nd to last chapter we have before we go on hiatus until Avengers 4 comes out.  
> So Tumblr is actually shitting itself. That's fun. Depending on how the next 2 weeks go, I may be posting on here exclusively.

[Originally posted by mylastlove-mylastsong](https://tmblr.co/ZFB0mp26NivL5)

You took one look at Steve, the little blue beetle he’d stolen, and wordlessly got into the driver’s seat. Both Bucky and Steve paled a little at that, ignoring Sam’s confused looks and vaguely rebellious glances at the sight of you sitting there. When he whispered something to Steve, the blond man glanced up at you, shook his head as subtly as he could, and crammed himself into the back seat with Sam following closely behind. 

The drive to the rendezvous had been short and tense and by the end of it Bucky and Steve were a little green and Sam’s lips were slammed shut so tightly you just _knew_ he was fighting back the urge to hack up his breakfast. 

Sharon Carter and Natasha were waiting in front of a grey Audi A4. Natasha raised an eyebrow at the Bug, but the four of you were already piling out of it, eager to have some actual damned leg room. 

“Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car,” you heard Sharon tease as Steve walked over. You’d already popped the front trunk for Natasha, who’d started hauling gear for the five of you into the hood compartment.

“It’s low profile,” Steve countered. Your gaze lifted from where you were helping Natasha arrange the mountain of things to bore into Steve’s back, eyes narrowed.

You knew that voice. That was the voice he used when…

Sharon smiled at him. “Good, because that stuff tends to draw a crowd.”

You could hear Bucky and Sam bickering about who could ride shotgun, an argument that ended promptly by the sound of Natasha’s simple “You can both ride in the back, children,” voice dead calm and even. They didn’t argue. 

“I owe you again,” Steve said. Now that you could see his face you knew for sure. He was flirting (or, well, trying to)! With Peggy’s niece! 

“Keeping a list,” you heard her say as her fingers drummed against the trunk of her car. 

Oh and she was flirting back, too! You glared when she turned and glanced at the three of you. “You know he kinda tried to kill me. And she almost got me fired.” 

Steve smiled at her and you felt your stomach turn uneasily. “Sorry. I’ll put it on the list, too.” That at least got a smile and huff of laughter out of her. An awkward pause and you thought that, perhaps, Steve’s awkwardness around women would lead to the end of that conversation, but then he spoke again. “They’re gonna come looking for you,” he admitted with just a twinge of guilt. 

“I know,” she said immediately with a nod. 

Your attention was so focused on them you didn’t see the wary glances Sam, Bucky, and Natasha were throwing you. 

“Thank you, Sharon,” Steve said earnestly. 

_Come on. Walk away, Steve. She’s not good enough for you,_ you shouted in your head. 

But then Steve glanced down at her lips, seemed to find his courage, and closed the distance between them in a single step. The kiss was short and about as chaste as you expected, with her hand cupping his head and his hands at a respectable level on her hips. 

You got all of a half step towards them before three sets of hands stopped you in your tracks. Your head swiveled to look at Sam, Natasha, and Bucky (the traitor). Sam was staring at Steve with an approving smile but Bucky and Natasha were both staring at you with an eyebrow raised challengingly. 

You glared at them and made to move away, but Steve and Sharon were already breaking apart. “That was…” 

“Late,” Steve finished with a guilty look.

“Damn right,” Sharon agreed, gazing up at him but with a hard edge to her smile that reminded you of Peggy. They gazed into each others’ eyes in that sickening, infatuated way but eventually Sharon sighed. “I should go.” 

“Okay,” Steve said easily. It was clear from one look at him that he was more than pleased with how that had turned out. Sharon walked around him to go to the driver’s side and Steve finally looked back at the three of you. 

Sam was still nodding his approval with a large, toothy smile. Natasha’s nearly feral smile was more than a little worrying. But your reaction was probably the most terrifying and Bucky was merely staring at you, worry creasing his features. 

“Get in the stupid beetle, Steven. _Now,_ ” you grit out, pointing to the open doors. 

Steve turned beet red and didn’t dignify that with a response. The man knew how to pick his battles. 

* * *

Natasha ended up sitting in the back with Steve and Bucky (Sam, Steve, and Bucky were much too big to fit into the back seat together), which left Sam in the passenger seat up front. 

The atmosphere in the car was so tense you could practically feel yourself suffocating. It did little to quell your anger about seeing Steve and Sharon together. 

Natasha was the first one brave enough to break the silence.

_“You’re being too hard on him. He deserves some happiness after everything,”_ she said quietly. 

You glanced at her in the rear view mirror, blood boiling. _“Leave it alone, Tashenka.”_

_“She risked a lot to help us,”_ she pressed, face carefully neutral, voice calm.

_“I’m not denying that. But she’s not good enough for him,”_ you spat. 

Natasha raised a brow. _“She’s a highly trained agent. She’s more than capable. She helped stop Hydra when SHIELD fell.”_

You stomped on the breaks a bit harder than you had to when a light turned red, sending everyone forward in their seats. _“You want to do this now? Fine, we’ll talk it out,”_ you growled. _“He’s Captain America, Natalia. You should know firsthand how much of a target that makes him. He’s strong, yes, but he’s also good and kind and loyal and we both know what will happen if they use someone he loves against him. It happened with me and Bucky. Today. And we’re ghosts. Assassins. She’s not even half as well trained as us. She is a weak link that will get him killed. He needs someone stronger.”_ The light changed and you cajoled the ancient machine forward. 

Natalia barely blinked during your tirade. _“So this has nothing to do with her being related to Peggy?”_ she asked shrewdly and your fingers tightened on the wheel but you refused to give her any other tell. 

_“Of course it had something to do with Peggy,”_ you hissed, glowering at the road behind your sunglasses. 

She waited for you to elaborate but when you didn’t she sighed and glanced at Bucky. _“You don’t have anything to say?”_

Bucky held his hands up in exasperation and wouldn’t look Natasha in the eye. _“We’ve already had this conversation and I’m not eager to have it again.”_

She looked between Bucky and the back of your head for a few beats before her expression morphed into something angrier. _“No… The phrasing you used. You want **me** to date him,”_ she said, glowering. 

You didn’t take your eyes off the road. _“Would that be so horrible?”_ you grit out between clenched teeth.

Natasha leaned forward in her seat until her face was just inches behind yours. _“He’s not even my type! Love is for children and it gets you killed. You can’t play matchmaker for us, **mother** ,”_ Natasha hissed and you recoiled as if you’d been hit. 

Bucky’s hand was on your shoulder instantly, rubbing circles into the tense muscles. _“Too far, Natalia…”_ he muttered with just an edge of anger. 

“Why not? You tried to set me up on dates for months, Nat,” Steve said quietly beside her. 

Natasha and Bucky looked at Steve in surprise and you were sure that if Sam could see your eyes he would have made fun of your expression. 

_“How long have you spoken Russian, Steve?”_ Natasha asked, schooling her expression quickly. 

Steve shrugged, his expression not giving anything away. “I had to learn the language while I was digging through Hydra and KGB files. I’m not very good at speakin’ it but I can understand most things.” 

_“Son of a bitch god damn whore shit fuck,”_ you swore. 

Sam raised an eyebrow at that. “Even _I_ know what a few of those mean.” 

“Shut it, birdbrain,” you hissed. Sam held his hands up placatingly and even that managed to get on your nerves a bit, but you held your temper in check. 

The rest of the ride was spent mostly in a tense, awkward silence. You were only a few minutes out from the airport when you spoke up. “I’ve long forfeited the right to any say in your love life, Steve. I never meant for you to hear any of that. I stand by what I said, but you’re a big boy. I know everything I said were things you’ve considered by now anyway.” You didn’t dare look at him in the mirror, gaze glued straight ahead or staring past him, searching for anyone who might be tailing you. 

Steve sounded like he was trying to be nonchalant when he responded. “Dunno. It was kinda nice hearing you nag like you used to, even if it was in Russian.”

You glared at the road instead of him. “I don’t nag.” You fixed Bucky’s reflection with a glare that he could somehow feel even though he couldn’t see your eyes. “And if a certain someone wants to stay in my good graces he won’t dispute that fact.” 

The peanut gallery wisely kept their mouths shut the rest of the short ride.

* * *

The white van was already waiting for the lot of you when you pulled up in the bug. The question of who was inside was answered almost instantly. You were barely parked before a familiar shaggy white-blond head was outside your window, grinning from ear to ear beneath a layer of dark brown scruff. 

You warily opened the door, fairly sure he’d hug you or something if his face was anything to go by, but he kept a respectful distance. You could see the Scarlet Witch- his sister- slide out of the van behind him, followed by a man you knew by sight and reputation, Clint “Hawkeye” Barton. 

“I was wondering when I’d see you again, mysterious robot woman,” Pietro said with a huge smile that made you want to squirm uncomfortably with how genuine it was.

You were saved from having to answer that by Steve stepping up next to you.

“Cap,” Barton said with a half smile as he stuck his hand out.

Steve took it almost grimly. “You know I wouldn’t have called if I had any other choice.” 

Barton was having none of Steve’s doom and gloom, though. “Hey man, you’re doing me a favor. Besides, I owe a debt,” he said, gaze flicking to you. 

Pietro sighed theatrically. “I already told you I would have saved you! Do you not remember me moving you and the boy to safety?” he asked, turning unfairly blue eyes on the master archer. 

“Shut up, kid.” Clint moved to shove his hand in Pietro’s face, but the speedster easily dodged him with a cocky grin. Giving up, Clint turned back to you and gave you a smile that had you frowning, uncertain.

“I don’t understand,” you said after a confused look between the two men. 

“You saved them from Ultron. It’s a very long, bromantic story about how Barton was willing to die saving a child and how my stupid brother was willing to sacrifice himself to save them both, but you saved them the trouble by destroying the gun on the quinjet,” Wanda explained, giving you a much more subdued smile than her brother’s. The subtle glare she sent her brother told you what she thought of his heroism. 

You didn’t like the way the hairs on the back of your neck and on your arms stood on end as you regarded her. She was the one who could toy with minds and move objects with a flick of her wrist. She was dangerous. 

She was a kid.

“Where are your little robots?” Pietro asked eagerly. 

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “I blew them up when the UN came to our apartment to kill me.”  

He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “That is too bad. I liked them very much. You will build more some time, yes? Maybe one for me?’ 

You tilted your head slightly as you regarded him. “Depends.” 

He smirked playfully. “On?” 

You crossed your arms. “Whether or not we survive the day and/or end up in prison.” 

Steve had been smiling a bit stiffly, but it became more genuine as he looked at the three newcomers. “Thanks for having my back.”

Wanda stared Clint straight in the eyes as she said, “It was time to get off my ass.” There was a story there, but it was one you were fairly sure you’d never know.

“We should get moving,” Natasha said, eyes flicking around warily. 

“We got a chopper lined up,” Clint said as he slid the van doors closed. 

Pietro groaned. “More slow air travel. I could run to this secret base faster than the helicopter could fly.”

Barton clapped Pietro on the shoulder, the latter fighting back a smile. “Sure you could, kid.”

Pietro opened his mouth to argue, but an alarm sounded and a man was on the speakers a moment later. 

Sam, Pietro, and Wanda looked confused, but the rest of you were growing warier the longer the man talked. 

“They’re evacuating the airport,” Bucky said from his spot next on the other side of the beetle. 

“Stark,” Sam said, glancing over his shoulder at Steve. 

Steve sighed, already resigned to what was about to happen. “Suit up.”

* * *

_“About what I said earlier.”_

You looked up at Natasha, frown on your face. She was shifting uncomfortably in the doorway of the closet you’d changed in, an uncommon look on her. “What?” you asked, though you had a feeling you knew. 

_“When I called you…”_ she bit her lip and looked away. _“I don’t know why, but I can tell it hurt you. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”_

You stared at her for a long enough time that the silence was practically tangible. She eventually nodded and began to turn to walk away, but you couldn’t let her go without saying anything. 

_“I was pregnant. In 1944.”_ You looked away from her and made some last minute adjustments and calibrations to the mechanical joints in your ankle, knowing that if you looked at her right then you’d lose it.

Natasha froze in the doorway, hand on the frame, eyes riveted to your face. 

_“I lost it when I died. In the fall. We found out a few months ago what Hydra did with its remains.”_ You knew she was still standing there, but either you’d stunned her into silence or she just didn’t know how to respond to such an open display of trust and intimacy. You carefully closed up the plates on your leg and slowly raised your gaze to her. _“Only two people have ever broken through Hydra’s brainwashing and reached what was left of me, Tashenka. You and Bucky.”_ You paused while the flashes of memory assaulted you, then took a deep breath and tried to smile at her. _“I don’t regret telling you to run that day. You did, eventually, though it was a few years later than I’d hoped at the time… which was for the best. As gifted as you were, a single child wouldn’t have been able to escape the Red Room on their own. But you got out. You started fighting for yourself, then for others, but to help rather than to hurt.”_

_“I still get to hurt a lot of people,”_ she said with a small smile. 

You smiled up at her. _“I suppose you do.”_ You held your arms open and she stared at you for a moment. It was a big leap, but if you had a chance of forgiveness from anyone besides Steve, it was Natasha. She didn’t move for a good ten seconds before she very, very slowly walked forward and bent down slightly when she was in front of you so you could wrap her up in your arms. _“I just hope that, one day, the world lets you stop running. You deserve it, my Natalia,”_ you whispered into her hair. 

_“You too, Mashenka.”_  

You weren’t sure if you believed that, but you didn’t contradict her. 

* * *

“Steve… You know what’s about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?” 

Steve glanced at Natasha, who was standing next to him under the overhang on the tarmac. His gaze slid to the nearby building where he knew you, Sam, and Bucky were lying in wait. “There’s no choice, Nat.” 

She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know. I just wanted to know you were sure. There’s no going back from this.”

Steve sighed and pulled his cowl on, then clipped it in place. “I know.”

* * *

T’Challa and Tony chased after you and Bucky doggedly, only to be constantly thwarted by Pietro and Wanda. The others were kept busy with Rhodey, Vision, and a guy in a blue and red suit (Spider-Man?) who swung around on spider webs. 

With the helicopter out of commission, it was a race to the quinjet that the others had shown up in. 

“I don’t know how to fly this thing!” Pietro yelled over the comms. You glanced up and, sure enough, he was already in the cockpit of the plane, looking at the controls with a completely flabbergasted expression. 

“You didn’t teach him how to fly yet?” you grunted over the comms as you dodged a violent slash from T’Challa’s Vibranium claws. Bucky appeared a few feet to your left and held his arm up just in time to block a punch from Stark, though it sent Bucky sliding back a few feet. You both disengaged before T’Challa could get another attack in. 

“It was on my to do list,” Natasha said tersely. The last time you saw her she’d been fighting Spider-Man. “Shit!”

Your head swiveled to look at her, just in time to see a blur of red and blue flying at you, webbing inches from your feet. 

He barreled into you with what felt like the force of a train. You got sent flying backward, thankful for the layers of leather that saved you from some serious road burn. 

“Sorry, sorry! I missed my web! I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. Are you okay? Wait, no, you’re a bad guy! You’re under arrest!” He shot a few more webs, pinning your legs to the ground.

You looked up at him- where he was hovering next to you- in horror. There was no doubt about it. He was a kid. Younger than even Wanda and Pietro. “Stark brought a kid to this fight?” you asked, shocked. You knew Tony was angry, but these people- you and Bucky especially- were _dangerous_. Deadly. Tony Stark brought a kid to a grudge match. 

“I’m not a kid! I’m a man!” The kid argued, betrayed halfway through by his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and dropped his voice down a few pitches. “You have the right to remain silent,” he said, sounding every bit like a child impersonating a grownup. 

“No!” 

You both turned to the source of the commotion, your eyes widening with horror as you saw an angry T’Challa racing at you, claws extended, Bucky hot on his heels, looking absolutely furious. 

“Fuck!” you swore, sitting up despite your throbbing head to claw at the webbing on your feet. T’Challa was getting closer by the second and he was looking for the kill if Bucky’s bruised face and torn clothes were anything to go by. 

The webbing refused to budge and you looked up at the kid in horror. You were about to be murdered in front of this child. By a prince. In the middle of a super person fight. 

Except T’Challa’s claws never reached your throat. Pietro flashed by and knocked him away just as his hand entered your peripheral vision. Steve’s shield flew out from nowhere and hit Spider-Kid square in the chest, sending him hurting into a stack of luggage and boxes, and caught it gracefully as it bounced back.

“That thing does not obey the laws of physics at all,” Spider-Boy said from his spot on top of the heap of suitcases. 

Bucky was by your side in an instant and together you managed to pry your legs loose from the hyper-strong webbing. You stood and wobbled for only a split second. You’d hit your head pretty hard and it was taking your lesser serum a while to heal whatever damage had been done. 

Steve stared at him, panting slightly. “Look kid, there’s a lot going on here that you don’t understand.” 

“Mr. Stark said you’d say that. Wow.” He sprung into action the moment he was done talking, sending a web out for the shield and to one of Steve’s legs. T’Challa tackled Steve at the same instant Spider-Kid pulled the webbing, sending Steve straight to the ground. “He also said to go for your legs,” he said gleefully. 

Pietro was already running at T’Challa, but the prince was ready for him this time and predicted exactly what Pietro would do. Pietro ended up flying a good twenty feet through the air, only to collide with Natasha who’d been helping Wanda fight Vision. 

Steve dove for his shield as you and Bucky turned to face T’Challa, who was still after your and Bucky’s very lives. You saw Steve get stopped by the kid’s webs, except Steve was stronger than the kid, quickly out-thinking and out-maneuvering him with a midair flip that sent the kid flying as Steve used his webs against him. 

“Stark tell you anything else?” Steve asked him.

His eyepieces narrowed, imitating the scowl underneath. “That you’re wrong. Thank you’re right.” He half-shrugged with a shake of his head. “That makes you dangerous.”

He was on his feet again in an instant, but Steve saw him coming and kicked him into the passenger loading dock. A toss from the shield crumpled the supports and you watched in horror as it fell on top of him. You expected the kid to get crushed, only to be surprised when he held it up as though it weighed a few dozen pounds and not several tons. 

Steve stared at the kid, looking torn between being impressed and amused. “Guess he had a point.”

Pietro came back and, with you and Bucky distracting T’Challa, he managed to catch the prince by surprise and run him halfway across the airport tarmac before T’Challa managed to free himself. You gulped down air, thankful for just a second of respite. 

“You got heart, kid. Where you from?” Steve asked Spider-Boy with a half smile. 

“Queens,” the kid answered, strained. 

You perked up a little at that. “Hey, me too.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Brooklyn,” he and Bucky said in unison. 

The three of you turned and began jogging towards the plane, only to have Pietro meet you after a few paces. Steve nodded to him, immediately back in Captain mode. “Pietro, get her on the plane. Now. We’ll finish up here and head to the quinjet as soon as it’s up and running,” Steve said, his voice echoing in the comm in your ear. 

“Aye aye, Captain Spangles,” Pietro said with a salute and a wink. He turned to you, arms held out expectantly. You glanced at Steve and Bucky. The latter looked a bit wary, but Steve nodded to you once, confident as ever. 

You turned back to Pietro and nodded. “Alright. Let’s go, Quicksilver.” 

He grinned as he picked you up bridal style and tucked your head into his chest. “Quicksilver? I like that.” 

He started running before you or the boys could respond.

* * *

Bucky threw a few punches at the black cat-suited man, but for all the good it did he may as well have missed. Even Steve’s shield seemed to barely phase T’Challa. 

Bucky barely managed to stop T’Challa’s claws from gouging his face, the Vibranium weapons too close to his eyeballs for comfort. “I didn’t kill your father,” he grit out between clenched teeth. 

“Then why did you run?” T’Challa growled and Bucky watched in shock as he easily pried Bucky’s left hand from his throat.

Bucky used all of his strength to push back, but it was a losing battle. “Because you attacked me,” he said, though that much should have been obvious. Bucky blinked and suddenly there was a foot connecting with his temple. He went flying, grunting out in pain when his back collided with a stack of wooden crates, then groaning again when he hit the hard concrete ground. 

He shook the hit off and sat up in a flash, but T’Challa was already in front of him, claws extended and headed straight for his throat.

Red energy engulfed his hand, freezing it a hair’s breadth from Bucky’s skin. Bucky and T’Challa both looked at Wanda in surprise, but a half second later T’Challa was thrown from Bucky by the energy and sent through the wall of an airplane.

* * *

“They’re not going to stop.”

Natasha sounded winded through the comms, but you were too busy prepping the quinjet to worry. One thing at a time. Let Steve worry about the big picture. 

“We gotta go. That guy’s probably in Siberia by now,” Bucky rasped. 

“He’s right,” you agreed as you punched in the startup sequence while Pietro looked on, mentally running through various scenarios in your head. Depending on how he traveled, he was almost definitely there by now. 

“We gotta draw out the fliers,” Steve said, and you could see the little furrow in his brow in your mind’s eye as he thought through the problem. “Wanda and I will take Vision. You get to the jet.” 

“No, you get to the jet. Both of you,” Sam said over the sound of rushing wind. “The rest of us aren’t getting out of here.” 

“As much as I hate to admit it, if we’re gonna win this one some of us might have to lose it,” Clint said. 

“This isn’t the real fight, Steve,” Natasha agreed, her statement punctuated by a few grunts as she fought off Spider-Boy. 

There was a pause as Steve considered the situation. “I can’t leave all of you here.” 

“You have to,” Sam said sternly. “You and Mister and Misses Smith need to get to that base. It doesn’t matter what happens to us right now if that psychopath gets a hold of those soldiers.”

“He’s right, Steve. The four of us will stay and hold them off, but you need to go,” Natasha said. 

“Don’t worry, Captain. This is just another Tuesday, right?” Pietro teased. You turned to look at him, worry creasing your brow, but he just smiled at you. When he spoke again it was only to you. “Go and save the world, then come back for us. Easy decision.”

Your lips twitched up into a smile. “Well, when you put it like that. Go give ‘em hell, kid.” You tapped the comm in your ear. “Pietro’s headed back into the field. The quinjet is ready for takeoff. Get moving, boys.”

* * *

Even with Clint, Natasha, Wanda, and Pietro out there giving them a hard time, T’Challa made it as far as into the hangar before Steve and Bucky made it onto the quinjet. Natasha slowed him down enough that, by the time you were flying out of the semi-collapsed room, he couldn’t even hang onto the tires which were closing themselves up into the jet. 

“Bucky, front. Both of you, buckle in,” you said as you closed your eyes and used your backscatter to watch your six. The quinjet had relatively advanced defenses, but you would bet your legs Tony had fancy weapons and gadgets that could fool it. 

“Got it, Doll,” Bucky said as he slid into the co-pilot’s seat. He’d keep an eye out for things in front of you while you paid attention to the threats behind. 

“You’re flying with your eyes shut.” Steve sounded nauseous. 

“Shut up and let me concentrate, Steve,” you said quietly. Sure enough, Tony and Rhodey broke off from the fight on the ground and gave chase, but Sam followed closely behind. You frowned and pushed the quinjet faster, thankful for whatever Hydra programming let you know exactly where anything in the cockpit was without having to take your eyes off of Iron Man and War Machine. 

“You’ve got two bogeys on your 5 and 7, Steve,” Sam said through the comms. You saw his suit fire off some small explosives that went off in front of them, far enough away to hopefully deter but not harm. 

You saw it before Sam did. The flash of light. 

You were there at Sokovia. You knew what came after. 

You killed the thrusters and all three of you felt the horrible swoop in your gut as gravity reestablished itself. The moment the nose of the plane began pointing downward you turned the engines on full tilt into a nosedive that had Steve paling, then turning green. 

The three fliers followed the movement and the beam of light grazed the back of War Machine’s armor, but didn’t stop him. 

“Vision’s aiming for you, Sam. Evasive action. I can out-fly these two,” you barked into the comm. 

“You sure ‘bout that, Frosty?” he asked. 

“I’m sure,” you growled as you pulled up hard, just in time to avoid hitting the ground. “Get back to the others.” 

You rolled to avoid something Iron Man deployed. You didn’t know what they were or what they did, but anything Tony was throwing at you wouldn’t be good. Sam pulled off and headed back to the airport. Sure enough, Vision didn’t fire again. Tony really was only interested in tearing you apart himself. 

“Hold on tight, boys. It’s going to get a little bumpy.” 

“It wasn’t already?” Steve said faintly. 

Bucky sounded commiserative. “Not even close, punk.” 

* * *

You finally lost them somewhere over Belarus. It was only thanks to a particularly violent storm and some tricky maneuvering. The moment you disappeared into a bank of clouds you hit the camouflage and killed the engines, once again dropping miles out of the sky until you turned the engines back on again. With no heat trail to follow and no way to track the plane, you were clear to continue to the base without being followed.

It was probably only a matter of time until Tony discovered its location, though. You had to move fast.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conflict between the three of you and Tony comes to a head in the base in Siberia. The mastermind behind the ruination of your lives finally reveals his plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing (always), violence, guns, blood  
> A/N: This is the last chapter until Avengers 4 premieres in April 2019. Thank you all for reading and sticking with this series up until now! It’s been over a year (wow! It really doesn’t feel like it’s been that long) and it’s amazing that so many of you have been following the story for that long!

## 

[Originally posted by cmarincic](https://tmblr.co/ZhIxSw26i-qq7)

The rest of the flight was calm, but with an air of dread for what was to come. If the man had woken up the other soldiers, you, Steve, and Bucky would be hard pressed to stop them by yourselves. Maybe the ruthless killers would sense the man wasn’t Hydra and kill him. 

Then again, he had no trouble using the Red Book to revert Bucky back to his programing. 

No, hoping that they would kill him would be too much. 

Thawing from cryo took time, though. You had that much going for you. 

“What’s gonna happen to your friends?” Bucky asked quietly, blue eyes staring at the back of Steve’s head. 

Steve sighed and shook his head, putting the question off in favor of checking the inventory in the back of the plane. “Whatever it is…” he said after a few beats, “I’ll deal with it.” 

“We’ll deal with it,” you corrected softly. You wouldn’t leave Natalia behind. Nor the twins, nor Sam, who was there for Steve when no one else was- the one person in his life he could trust implicitly. 

You supposed you could rescue Barton, too, while you were at it. 

“I don’t know if we’re worth all this, Steve,” Bucky said quietly. 

That got Steve to stop and look at Bucky. You could see the heartbreak in his eyes at Bucky’s simple sentence. He looked downright anguished. 

“What you two did all those years… it wasn’t you,” he said firmly. You could tell he believed it. In his eyes, you shared none of the blame. “You didn’t have a choice.”

“We know,” Bucky admitted quietly. 

“But we did it,” you added softly. 

Steve crushed the granola bar in his hand and didn’t respond, but the mournful expression on his face said enough. 

* * *

You landed the quinjet next to the snow vehicle. The air in the cabin was tense because all three of you could see the open doors to the hidden base. 

Bucky grabbed a M249 Paratrooper from Natasha’s locker and you unplugged yourself from the quinjet. You only had about half of your power cells charged, but it would have to be enough.

The three of you stood shoulder to shoulder as the loading door slowly opened. Only you winced at the blast of cold; the boys were assuredly uncomfortable, too, but their serums helped insulate them against the worst of it. More than likely it was hurting them worse mentally than anything else. 

You grabbed a jacket from Natasha’s locker while the two of them made the final adjustments to their gear. 

“Remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?” Steve asked with a glance at Bucky. 

Bucky actually smiled at that. “Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?” 

Steve smirked. “You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead.” 

You snorted as you zipped up your jacket. “That sounds like something he’d do.”

Bucky grinned, though his brow furrowed as he tried to remember more. “What was her name again?” You were more than a little smug that he couldn’t remember. 

“Delores. You called her Dot,” Steve said as he pulled his gloves on.

“She’s gotta be a hundred years old by now,” Bucky said with a shake of his head, long hair escaping from behind his ears.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder and grinned widely. “So are we, pal.”

You bumped Steve with your shoulder and shot him a mock glare. “Never tell a lady she looks a day over twenty-five, Steve. It’ll get you into trouble.” 

“That would be relevant if there were a lady in the room,” Bucky muttered under his breath, trying valiantly to hide his smirk. 

For his efforts you whacked him upside the head and marched out of the plane. 

“He can’t have been here more than a few hours,” Steve said as he caught up. The three of you fell into formation as easy as breathing with Steve in front, you in the middle, and Bucky bringing up the rear. 

“Long enough to wake them up,” Bucky said darkly. 

* * *

The ride downwards was, in a word, uncomfortable. The base was obviously disused but the sight of it scratched at the cracks in your mind, making you feel more and more jittery the longer you were there. 

Steve opened the elevator grate while Bucky took point, with you keeping a lookout with your backscatter. As far as you could see there wasn’t any movement, but the other Soldiers weren’t the best trained Hydra kill squad in history for nothing. 

Bucky led the way to the room where the two of you and the other Soldiers had been kept. Stepping foot into that god forsaken place took more strength than you were entirely sure you possessed. 

The cryo pods were puffing out freezing O2, dropping the temperature of the room considerably. The moment the motion sensors picked up on your presences, the lights flicked on. 

The cryo chambers were full, except for two. 

You’d barely made it two steps into the room before someone was talking over the speakers. “If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.” 

You followed Steve into the room, gaze flicking between the other Soldiers. Once you got close enough you realized that, not only were they empty, there was a single bullet hole through the glass wall of each.

And a bullet hole through each of the Soldiers’ heads. 

“What the hell?” you heard Bucky whisper nervously as he readjusted his grip on his gun. You couldn’t help but agree with that sentiment. This didn’t make any sense.

“I’m grateful to them, though,” the voice continued. “They brought you here.” 

A light flicked on in the control room, revealing the man who’d started this all. How shocking that this man could ruin your lives and you still didn’t know his name. 

Steve’s shield flew from his fingertips at the same moment, before you or Bucky could tell him it was of no use. Sure enough, it bounced off the wall without even scratching it. He caught it and shoved it back on his arm, eyes burning with anger.

“Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blasts of UR-100 rockets.” 

“I wouldn’t need even five minutes to get through that door,” you hissed. 

“Oh, I’m sure that’s true, Misses Barnes. But then you’d never know why you came,” the man said as though this was some intriguing scavenger hunt. 

Steve stalked furiously toward the blast shelter window. “You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. 

Steve stopped in front of the glass and the man took a step forward, sneer on his lips. “I’ve thought of nothing else for over a year. I’ve studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here… I just realized… there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes,” he whispered. Steve straightened, taken aback, and the man chuckled. “How nice to find a flaw.” 

Steve figured it out maybe a few seconds before you did. “You’re Sokovian. Is that what this is about?” 

The man shook his head once. “Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No.” He paused and the pain on his face was nearly palpable. “I’m here because I made a promise.”

Steve looked away, frown marring his features. “You lost someone?” he asked, blue eyes flicking back up to the man.

He stared at Steve for a long moment before his features twisted into something painful and broken, his eyes growing wet. “I lost _everyone_ ,” he corrected, choking back tears. “And so will you.”

You, Bucky, and Steve froze at the sound of something big and metal hitting something deep inside the base. 

“There’s our final guest,” the man mused, eyes turned towards the ceiling. “An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead. Forever.” 

Your gazes were drawn to the small TV and VHS machine next to you. 

Steve’s eyes clouded over at the sight and Bucky’s gun fell a few inches when he saw the date. 

You, however, giggled a little manically.

All three men looked at you in varying states of surprise.

“I dunno how to tell you this, but that guy up there in the red and gold suit? He’s already seen this.” The man behind the window looked perplexed by that but you laughed again. “Man, we’ve gotta be the unluckiest bastards in the whole world, don’t we? Of all the people we saved in Sokovia, the few we didn’t just happened to be related to one of the most patient and intelligent men I’ve ever met. But, shit, it’s just my luck that I did the one thing this guy was after all along without even knowing it. _Fuck!_ ” you swore and kicked the nearby railing so hard it bent inwards. 

“Baby…” Bucky said quietly, looking as though he wanted to reach towards you, but the noises coming from higher up in the facility were getting louder. Tony was on his way. Bucky couldn’t let his guard down. 

You bowed mockingly to the man behind the window. “Congratulations. We won. We tore apart the Avengers because Tony Stark’s creation killed your family and we killed his, leaving the world defenseless against larger threats. We deserve fucking medals,” you snarled. 

“Doll,” Bucky warned, but you were glaring at the man behind the window. The noises were too loud to ignore and you weren’t even sure if the man could hear you anymore. 

“I’m sorry for your loss, but your grief may have doomed us all.” 

You turned away before he could respond, just in time to see War Machine and Iron Man come through the doors. 

It was clear from the way they didn’t react to the dead bodies in the cryo pods that they’d already scanned for heat signatures and found only four. 

Before any of you could open your mouths to speak, Tony raised his arm and fired at you and Bucky. 

* * *

“Do you even remember them?” 

“We remember all of them.”

It was a lie.

* * *

By the time you’d all fought your way down to the bottom of the missile silo the base was in ruins. Steve had managed to hack away at Tony’s suit while he doggedly pursued you and Bucky. At this point you were just trying to escape with your lives, but Tony and Rhodey weren’t letting that happen. The latter, at least, didn’t seem to be shooting to kill but also didn’t seem able to stop Tony from doing so. 

It all ended up in a melee where the three of you started to get the upper hand, only for Tony to start reading the three of you like a book. 

A punch from Bucky was all the distraction you needed to dart in and shove one of your fingers into an exposed gap in War Machine’s armor. The suit fell like a  puppet with the strings cut but you were already going for the glowing power source in its chest, not trusting Tony’s tech to be incapable of repairing itself if given enough time. 

Except Tony saw Rhodey go down and turned on you with a single-minded fury that blindsided you. 

A repulsor blast knocked you off of Rhodey and propelled you into the wall. Your head hit the concrete with a _crack_ and your vision blacked out.

* * *

You blinked, shapes swimming in your vision, light blasts and noises so loud it felt like your head was being torn apart. 

A red and gold blur fighting dark blue and black ones. An unmoving black and grey heap across the room from you. 

* * *

Bucky’s yell followed by a blast so bright you could see it behind your eyelids. 

The terrible silence that followed. 

* * *

When you opened your eyes next your vision had cleared a little, but they only revealed Bucky, one-armed with a stunned look on his face, laying a few feet from you. You gritted your teeth and dragged yourself towards him. You tried to say his name, but your voice failed you. 

Steve staggered a few feet away and stared tiredly at Tony. 

“They’re my friends,” he said, panting hard.

Tony’s voice was cold. “So was I.”

He punched Steve so hard you swore you could hear his bones breaking, then threw him dangerously close to the ledge like he was a rag doll.

“Stay down. Final warning.” 

Apparently Tony didn’t know Steve as well as he thought he did. Steve slowly stumbled to his feet, bruised and bloody, and held his fists up, looking more than a little exhausted as he stared at Tony. 

“I can do this all day.” 

Tony raised a hand to blast Steve away, but Bucky grabbed his boot. That earned Bucky a kick directly to the face and you let a small noise of horror escape your lips. Bucky didn’t move for a few moments. 

It was all the distraction Steve had needed though. You were torn between checking Bucky and watching Steve beat Tony’s suit to pieces. 

Your mind was made up for you when Steve raised his shield again, though this time it was against Tony’s unprotected face.

“Steve!” you rasped as Steve brought his shield down. 

It landed in the power source on the front and all at once the suit powered down. Tony, unable to move against the heavy metal of the suit, stared at Steve with wide, terrified eyes as blood ran down his face. 

Steve was panting hard and practically fell off of Tony. The shield stuck straight out of Tony’s chest piece. With what looked like immense difficulty Steve stood and wrenched the shield from the warped metal of Tony’s suit with a gasp. 

You slowly clambered to your feet, realizing dimly that you were out of power and your legs had been heavily damaged; you may as well have had peg legs. It was nothing compared to Bucky’s arm, though, which had been blown off to the shoulder. The wires were exposed and sparking and you knew the neural feedback would be causing him unimaginable pain at the moment. 

Steve helped Bucky to his feet and slung his remaining arm over his shoulder. He gave you a brief questioning look, but you only nodded. You could walk. Whether or not you could walk without having to hold on to a wall or railing remained to be seen, though. 

“That shield doesn’t belong to you!” Tony raged from his spot on the ground where he’d managed to throw himself on his side. The three of you started making their slow, dogged way back up through the base. “You don’t deserve it. My father made that shield!” Tony yelled.

Steve stopped and looked heavenward, breathing heavily.

You paused, too, and looked over your shoulder at him. “No, Tony. He didn’t,” you said, giving the beaten and bloodied man one last, sad look before you turned and began walking away. 

The shield hit the ground with a dull thud that reverberated around the chamber, a bell to ring in a new era… and signal the end of the old one.

* * *

You froze as the elevator doors opened. “Steve, wait. There’s-”

You didn’t have time to warn them. The moment T’Challa darkened the doorway Steve froze. Even Bucky- tired and beaten as he was- got into a resigned, defensive crouch, remaining arm up with his hand in a loose fist.

The Prince of Wakanda didn’t move any closer. Instead he spoke from the doorway, voice careful and calm. “I made a mistake. You didn’t kill my father.” 

There was a brief moment where the words and their implications sunk in. Bucky leaned back onto Steve, shoulders sagging ever so slightly. You and Steve didn’t move, though. 

“You’re here to take them in?” Steve asked, putting himself between T’Challa and you and Bucky as much as he could. 

T’Challa- whose face was uncovered now, revealing a young, handsome man- shook his head. “No. Not unless that is what they desire, though something tells me that is not the case.”

“Freedom would be nice. Kinda gotten used to it the last few years,” Bucky said faintly. 

“I’d like to offer my help. And not just mine, but the considerable resources of Wakanda.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why?” He was trying to kill you and Bucky a few hours ago but now he wanted to help you? You didn’t live to one hundred years by trusting things that were too good to be true. 

T’Challa’s eyes flicked to you, dour look on his face (you wondered if he ever smiled). “Because you are the victims of great atrocities and I have wrongfully attacked you for a crime you didn’t commit.”

You slowly rose from your crouch and stared at T’Challa in confusion. “We may have been innocent of that crime, but we’re guilty of many others. Yet you’d still help us?” Steve made a noise of protest at the insinuation that you were guilty of what you’d done under Hydra’s control, but you only glared at him. “What, Steve? You want us to pretend we didn’t kill hundreds of people for Hydra and the KGB? Because we can’t,” you growled. 

T’Challa watched the exchange stoically. “The technology in Wakanda is more advanced than anything I have seen outside our borders. My sister- the head of research and development- will have a better chance of undoing the damage that was done to your minds than any other doctor or scientist could hope.” He paused, then smirked. “Also, Tony Stark destroyed the plane you used to get here, so I’m your only ride.”

Steve stiffened at that and looked between you, Bucky, and T’Challa warily. “Bucky? (Y/N)? What do you want to do?” 

You knew Steve would be willing to carry you and Bucky all the way through the Siberian tundra if he had to, but you were just… tired. Tired of running. Tired of hiding. One glance at Bucky told you he felt the same way. You looked at Steve over Bucky’s head and nodded once, which was all Steve needed. 

“Thank you, your highness. We’ll take you up on your offer,” Steve said with a slight incline of his head. 

T’Challa smiled wryly. “That is good. You would have made very lovely icicles, though.” You snorted at that, which only made his smirk grow. You’d expected him to walk back to his ship, so it was surprising that he slowly walked over to you and ducked down so you could throw an arm over his shoulder. Steve and Bucky both threw you worried looks, but you only glanced at them before you let T’Challa start leading you back to his ship. 

The cold air hit you like a physical thing, nearly flooring you. If T’Challa hadn’t been helping you along you were fairly sure you would have blacked out. 

The ship T’Challa had flown in wasn’t exactly spacious and a most unwelcome and unexpected person was already waiting on board, tied up, gagged, and disarmed. 

“I know this will not a pleasant ride. I will be placing Colonel Zemo in the United Nation’s custody before we return to Wakanda. He must pay for what he has done.”

“What happened to avenging your father’s death?” you asked as you trundled past the man- Zemo- who had been behind everything that had happened the last few days, not bothering to avoid kicking him as you went. 

T’Challa glanced over his shoulder at you as he turned the plane on. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen, designed, or piloted and you practically vibrated out of your skin in the effort to not take it apart and study it. “I nearly killed the wrong people. When I saw you and Stark fighting I realized I had let vengeance-not reason- dictate my actions.” He frowned as the jet began vertical takeoff. “It was a startling, frightening realization; an important lesson, but one that nearly cost you your lives.”

You shrugged as you watched him pilot, filing his tiny motions and each button he pressed away for later. “Still breathing.” 

He eyed you carefully. “Can the same be said for Tony Stark and Colonel Rhodes?” 

Steve bristled at the implication. “Yes. We destroyed their suits, but they’re both alive. We were just trying to escape.” You could practically see the deep frown creasing his brow; a sad puppy that had been scolded. “I’d never kill them.”

“Think he was talkin’ about us, pal,” Bucky said quietly. 

T’Challa tilted his head in recognition. “That is not incorrect. I did not think you would, however, judging from your past actions and what I have learned recently. Also, I believe this-” he reached into a compartment above the control console and pulled out the Red Book, “-belongs to you.” 

You stared at it, body completely stiff and unmoving. When neither you nor Bucky moved to take it from T’Challa, Steve reached forward and took the book carefully, as though the thing itself was dangerous. Just glimpsing it brought back the memories of ice in your veins and whispers of the confused fogginess of your mind. It was only once Steve had stowed it beneath his uniform that you could breathe again.

“Burn it,” Bucky rasped. 

Steve looked more than ready to agree to that, but you shook your head. “Can’t. What’s inside might help undo the damage,” you said, glowering at the spot where it had disappeared beneath Steve’s uniform top. 

Steve looked between you and Bucky as you had a silent conversation, the end of which ended in Bucky looking up at Steve and nodding his agreement to your idea. Steve looked more than a little troubled, but accepted your judgements and shuffled in his spot in an attempt to get more comfortable (which was in vain; the plane was much too cramped for that). 

“It will be a few hours before we arrive in Wakanda. We will have more room once I turn the Colonel over, but I suggest you get comfortable while you can.” 

You glanced at Bucky over your shoulder. _Fat chance_ , his expression screamed. You couldn’t help but smile at that, but humored T’Challa and closed your eyes. If you watched your surroundings with your backscatter, well, that was for you to know and for the others to never find out. 

* * *

“T’Challa?”

You perked up at the sound of Steve’s concerned voice, glancing up at where he and T’Challa sat in the front seats of the plane. With Zemo gone the plane had grown considerably more roomy and you and Bucky had taken shelter as far away from the other two as you could. 

He was awake, too, staring at the prince and the captain carefully, steel blue eyes trained on the back of their heads. 

“Those trees are gettin’ real close,” Steve said warily. You flicked your eyes to backscatter, but you were getting odd feedback so you turned them back to normal and stood unsteadily on your powerless legs.

Sure enough, the plane was pointed directly at the side of the mountain. 

“Yes. Wakanda has become very ingenious in our methods of staying hidden from the world.” 

All three of you stared at him with wide, horrified eyes as he continued to barrel straight for the mountainside. You reached back for Bucky’s right hand and threaded your fingers with his. T’Challa didn’t seem the type to blow himself up in a plane, but you at least thought that it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. At least it’d be fast.

Except the moment T’Challa hit the first tree the hologram glamour faded and revealed a few similar layers beneath.

A huge, sprawling, futuristic city appeared as you flew through the last barrier. A river cut through the center of the city, breaking up the shockingly green landscape. Some of the buildings were easily as tall as the skyscrapers in New York, but they had designs you’d never see in the Big Apple. 

“Holy crap,” Bucky breathed.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, awed. 

Steve was speechless.

T’Challa barely spared the three of you a smug glance. “Welcome to Wakanda.”


End file.
